On Salathiel Pavy

WEEP with me, all you that readThis little story;And know, for whom a tear you shedDeath's self is sorry.'Twas a child that so did thriveIn grace and feature,As Heaven and Nature seem'd to striveWhich own'd the creature.Years he number'd scarce thirteenWhen Fates turn'd cruel,Yet three fill'd zodiacs had he beenThe stage's jewel;

And did act (what now we moan)Old men so duly,As sooth the Parcae thought him one,He play'd so truly.So, by error, to his fateThey all consented;But, viewing him since, alas, too late!They have repented;And have sought, to give new birth,In baths to steep him;But, being so much too good for earth,Heaven vows to keep him.