So fair, so young, so innocent, so sweet,
So ripe a judgment, and so rare a wit,
Require at least an age in one to meet.
In her they met; but long they could not stay,
'Twas gold too fine to fix without allay.
Heaven's image was in her so well exprest,
Her very sight upbraided all the rest;
Too justly ravished from an age like this,
Now she is gone, the world is of a piece.
More verses by John Dryden
- Prologue For The Women, When They Acted At The Old Theatre, Lincoln's-Inn-Fields
- The Tears Of Amynta, For The Death Of Damon. A Song
- The Cock And The Fox: Or, The Tale Of The Nun's Priest
- Hymn For St. John's Eve, 29th June
- O Souls, In Whom No Heavenly Fire