| |
|
LIX.
If
there be nothing new, but that which is
Hath been
before, how are our brains beguiled,
Which, labouring
for invention, bear amiss
The second burden of a
former child!
O, that record could with a backward
look,
Even of five hundred courses of the sun,
Show me your image in some antique book,
Since mind
at first in character was done!
That I might see what
the old world could say
To this composed wonder of
your frame;
Whether we are mended, or whether better
they,
Or whether revolution be the same.
O, sure I
am, the wits of former days
To subjects worse have
given admiring praise.
|
|
|
