ENGLISH POETRY 1579-1830: SPENSER AND THE TRADITION
Sir William Davenant
, "To Sir William Davenant in answer to the Seventh Canto, of the Third Book of his Gondibert, directed to my Father" 1652; Cotton, Poems (1923) 273-74.
Sir William Davenant:
1629: Edward Hyde
1629: William Habington
1637: John Suckling
1638: John Suckling
1638: Thomas Carew
1638: William Habington
1650: Abraham Cowley
1650: Edmund Waller
1651: Samuel Sheppard
1652: Charles Cotton
1653: Sir John Denham
1659: Thomas Pecke
1670: Richard Flecknoe
1683: John Dryden
1690: Anthony Wood
1693: Rev. Samuel Wesley
1709: Thomas Hearne
1734: Alexander Pope
1764: David Erskine Baker
1766 ca.: Samuel Pegge
1779: Rev. Vicesimus Knox
1782: William Hayley
1789: Rev. Thomas Warton
1795: Dr. Robert Anderson
1800: Dr. Nathan Drake
1814: Isaac D'Israeli
1819: William Hazlitt
1819: Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe
1824: Bryan Waller Procter
1832: John Taylor Esq.
1837: Henry Hallam
1842: C. H. Timperley
1859: David Masson
1860: George Gilfillan
1880: Edmund Gosse
1652: Sir William Davenant
1655 ca.: Edmund Waller
1662: Sir Aston Cokayne
1673: Rev. John Donne
1674: Thomas Flatman
Oh happy Fire! whose heat can thus control
The rust of age, and thaw the frost of Death,
That renders Man immortal, as his soul,
And swells his fame with everlasting breath.
Happy's that hand, that unto honour's clime
Can lift the subject of his living praise,
That rescues frailty from the scythe of Time,
And equals glory to the length of days.
Such, Sir, is yours, that, uncontroll'd as Fate,
In the black bosom of o'er shading Night,
Can sons of immortality create,
To dazzle envy with prevailing Light.
In vain they strive your glorious lamp to hide
In that dark Lanthorn to all noble minds,
Which, through the smallest cranny is descried,
Whose force united no resistance finds.
Blest is my Father, that has found his name
Amongst the Heroes, by your pen reviv'd,
By running in Time's wheel his thriving fame
Shall still more youthful grow, and longer liv'd.
Had Alexander's trophies thus been rear'd,
And in the circle of your story come,
The spacious Orb, full well he might have spar'd,
And reap'd his distant victories at home.
Let men of greater wealth than merit cast
Medals of gold for their succeeding part
That paper monument shall longer last,
Than all the rubbish of decaying Art.