Jephson, thou man of men, to whose loved name All gentry, yet, owe part of their best flame! So did thy virtue inform, thy wit sustain That age, when thou stood'st up the master brain: Thou wert the first, mad'st merit know her strength, And those that lacked it, to suspect at length, 'Twas not entailed on title. That some word Might be found out as good, and not 'my lord'. That Nature no such difference had impressed In men, but every bravest was the best: That blood not minds, but minds did blood adorn: And to live great, was better, than great born. These were thy knowing arts: which who doth now Virtuously practise must at least allow Them in, if not from thee; or must commit A desperate solecism in truth and wit. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TEN YEARS OLD by LOUIS UNTERMEYER FRANCE: AN ODE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE THE CONTRACT by EMILY DICKINSON ON THE MORNING OF CHRIST'S NATIVITY by JOHN MILTON THE LAST GOODBYE by LOUISE CHANDLER MOULTON |