Page:Poetical Works of John Oldham.djvu/55



O, humble gift, go to that matchless saint, Of whom thou only wast a copy meant: And all that's read in thee, more richly find Comprised in the fair "volume of her mind; That living system, where are fully writ All those high morals, which in books we meet: Easy, as in soft air, there writ they are, Yet firm, as if in brass they graven were. Nor is her talent lazily to know, As dull divines, and holy canters do; She acts what they only in pulpits prate, And theory to practice does translate: Not her own actions more obey her will, Than that obeys strict virtue's dictates still: Yet does not virtue from her duty flow, But she is good, because she will be so: Her virtue scorns at a low pitch to fly, 'Tis all free choice, nought of necessity: By such soft rules are saints above confined. Such is the tie, which them to good does bind.