^Appendix 



Cotton s Verses to Walton 

 (1672) 



To my Old and Most Worthy Friend^ Mr. Izaak Walton, 

 on his Life of Dr. Donne, &c. 



When to a nations loss, the virtuous die, 

 There s justly due, from every hand and eye, 

 That can or write, or weep, an elegy. 



Which though it be the poorest, cheapest way, 

 The debt we owe, great merits to defray, 

 Yet it is almost all that most men pay. 



And these are monuments of so short date, 



That, with their birth, they oft receive their fate; 



Dying with those whom they would celebrate. 



And though to verse great reverence is due, 

 Yet what most poets write, proves so untrue, 

 It renders truth in verse suspected too. 



Something more sacred then, or more entire, 



The memories of virtuous men require, 



Than what may with their funeral torch expire : 



This History can give; to which alone 



The privilege to mate oblivion 



Is granted, when denied to brass and stone. 



Wherein, my friend, you have a hand so sure, 

 Your truths so candid are, your style so pure. 

 That what you write may envy's search endure. 



Your pen, disdaining to be bribed or prest, 



Flows without vanity or interest; 



A virtue with which few good pens are blest. 



375 



