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Lift not thy spear against the Muses' bower: The great Emathion conqueror bid spare
The house of Pindarus, when temple' and tow'r Went to the ground: and the repeated air
Of sad Electra's poet had the power
IX. To a virtuous young Lady.
XiADY that in the prime of earliest youth Wisely hath shunn'd the broad way and the green, And with those few art eminently seen,
That labor up the hill of heav'nly Truth,
The better part with Mary and with Ruth
No anger find in thee, but pity' and ruth.
And hope that reaps not shame. Therefore be sun
Thou, when the bridegroom with his feastfcl
Passes to bliss at the mid hour of night, [friencs
Hast gain'd thy entrance, virgin wise and pure.
X. To the Lady Margaret Ley.
.daughter to that good Earl, once president y Of England's council, and her treasury,
Who liv'd in both, unstain'd with gold or fee, And left them both, more in himself content,
Till sad the breaking of that Parlament
Broke him, as that dishonest victory
At Chaeronea, fatal to liberty, •
Though later born than to have known the days 'Wherein your father florish'd, yet by you, Madam, methinks I see him living yet;
So well your words his noble virtues praise, That all both judge you to relate them true, And to possess them, honor'd Margaret.
XI. On the detraction which followed upon my writing certain treatises.
Abook was writ of late call'd Tetrachordon,
And woven close, both matter, form and stile;
The subject new; it walk'd the Town a while. Numb'ring good intellects; now seldom por'd on. Cries the stall-reader, Bless us ! what a word on
A title page is this! and some in file Stand spelling false, while one might walk to MileEnd Green. Why is it harder Sirs than Gordon,
Colkitto, or Macdonnel, or Galasp? Those rugged names to our like mouths grow sleek,
That would have made Quintilian stare and gasp. Thy age, like ours, O Soul of Sir John Cheek,
Hated not learning worse than toad or asp, When thou taught'st Cambridge, and King Edward B 2 [Greek. XII. On tht same.
1 Did but prompt the age to quit their clogs By the known rules of ancient liberty, When strait a barbarous noise environs me
Of owls and euccoos, asses, apes and dogs:
As when those hinds that were transform'd to frogs
But this is got by casting pearl to hogs;
That bawl for freedom in their senseless mood,
And still revolt when Truth would set them free.
Licence they mean when they cry Liberty;
For who loves that, must first be wise and good;
But from that mark how far they rove we see
XIII. To Mr. II. Lawts on his Airs.
ilARRT, whose tuneful and well-measur'd song First taught our English music how to span Words with just note and accent, not to scan
M^ith Midas' ears, committing short and long;
Thy worth and skill exempts thee from the throng,
That with smooth air could'st humour best out tongue. [w'ng
Thou honor'st verse, and verse must lend her To honor thee, the priest of Phcebus' quite,
That tun'st their happiest lines in hymn or story. Dante shall give Fame leave to set thee higher Than his Casella, whom he woo'd to sing Met in the milder shades of Purgatory.
XIV. On the religious memory of Mrs. Catharine Thomson, myChristianfriend, dcceas'dXSDec. 1646.
Ivhek faith and love, which parted from thee nevef Had ripen'd thy just soul to dwell with God, Meekly thou didst resign this earthly load
Of death, call'd life; which us from life doth sever.
Thy worksand alms and all thy good endevor Stay'd not behind, nor in the grave were trod, But as Faith pointed with her golden rod,
Follow'd thee up to jov and bliss for ever.
Love led them on, and Faith wholcnew them best
Thy hand-maids, clad them o'er with purple beams and azure wings, that up they flew so drest
And spake the truth of thee on glorious themes Before the Judge, who thenceforth bid thee rest
And drink thy fill of pure immortal streams.
XV, To the Lord General Fairfax
1'airfax, whose name in arms through Europe
rings, . Filling each mouth with envy or with praise,
And all her jealous monarchs wiih amaze And rumors loud, that daunt remotest kings,
Tby firm unshaken virtue ever brings
Victory home, though new rebellions raise
Her broken league to imp their serpent wings.
(For what can war, but endless war still breed ?)
Till truth and right from violence be freed,
And public faith clear'd from the shameful brand
Of public fraud. In vain doth Valor bleed,
XVI. To tie Lord General Cromwell.
Vjomwili., our chief of men, who through a cloud Not of war only, but detractions rude, Guided by laith and matchless fortitude,
To peace and truth thy glorious way hast plough'd,
And on the neck of crowned Fortune proud
Hast rear'd God's trophies, and his work pursued,
And Worcester's laureat wreath. Yet much remains
Threatning to bind our souls with secular chains: