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Poem by John Dryden
Upon Young Mr. Rogers, of Gloucestershire
OF gentle Blood, his Parents only Treasure, Their lasting Sorrow and their vanish’d Pleasure. Adorn’d with Features, Virtues, Wit, and Grace, A large Provision for so short a Race: More mod’rate Gifts might have prolong’d his Date, Too early fitted for a better State: But, knowing Heav’n his Home, to shun Delay He leap’d o’er Age, and took the shortest Way.
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