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On his being arriv'd to the age of 23.
Stoln on his wing my three and twentieth year !
But my late spring no bud or blossom shew'th. Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth, , 5
That I to manhood am arriv'd so near,
It shall be still in strictest measure even
To that same lot, however mean or high,
All is, if I have grace to use it fo,
When the assault was intended to the City.
That call fame on such gentle acts as these,
Lift not thy spear against the Muses' bower:
The great Emathian conqueror bid spare
The house of Pindarus, when temple' and tower
Of sad Elećtra's poet had the power
and the green,
Ta a virtuous young Lady.
That labor up the hill of heav'nly truth,
Chosen thou haft; and they that overween,
No anger find in thee, but pity' and ruth.
To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light,
And hope that reaps not shame. Therefore be sure Thou, when the bridegroom with his feastful friends
Passes to bliss at the mid hour of night,
To the Lady Margaret Ley.
Of England's Council, and her Treasury,
And left them both, more in himself content, Till fad the breaking of that Parliament
5 Broke him, as that dishonest victory At Chæronea, fatal to liberty,
Killd with report that old man eloquent. Though later born than to have known the days
Wherein your father florish’d, yet by you,
Madam, methinks I see him living yet;
That all both judge you to relate them true,
certain treatises. A book was writ of late call'd Tetrachordon,
And woven close, both matter, form and stile;
A title-page is this ! and some in file
End Green. Why is it harder, Sirs, than Gordon,
That would have made Quintilian ftare and gasp. Thy age, like ours, 0 Soul of Sir John Cheek, Hated not learning worse than toad or asp, When thou taught'f Cambridge, and king Edward Greek.
On the same.
I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs
By the known rules of ancient liberty,
Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes, and dogs:
Rail'd at Latona's twin-born progeny,
But this is got by casting pearl to hogs;
And still revolt when truth would set them free. 10
Licence they mean when they cry Liberty;
But from that mark how far they rove we see
To Mr. H. L Awes on his Airs.
Harry, whose tuneful and well-measur'd song
First taught our English music how to span
With Midas' ears, committing short and long;
thee from the throng, 5
Thou honor' ft verse, and verse must lend her wing
To honor thee, the priest of Phæbus' quire, IO
That tun'st their happiest lines in hymn, or story.
Than his Casella, whom he woo'd to sing,
On the religious memory of Mrs. CATHARINE Thomson, my christian friend,
Deceas'd 16 Decem. 1646. When faith and love, which parted from thee never, Had ripen'd thy just soul to dwell with God, Meekly thou didft resign this earthly load Of death; call'd life; which us from life doth fever. Thy works and alms and all thy good endevor 5 Stay'd not behind, nor in the grave were trod: But, as faith pointed with her golden rod, Follow'd thee up to joy and bliss for ever. Love led them on, and faith, who knew 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.