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Hated not learning worse than toad or asp,
When thou taught'stCambridge, and kingEdward

XII. (Greek.

On the same. I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs By the known rules of ancient liberty, When straight a barbarous noise environs me Of owls and cuccoos, asses, apes and dogs: As when those hinds that were transform'd to frogs 5 Rail'd at Latona's twin-born progeny, Which after held the fun and moon in fee. But this is got by casting pearl to hogs; That bawl for freedom in their senseless mood, 9 And still revolt when truth would set them free. Licence they mean when they cry Liberty; For who loves that, must first be wife and good; But from that mark how far they rove we fee For all this waste of wealth, and loss of blood.

XIII. To Mr. H. LA WES on his Airs. Harry, whose tuneful and well-measur'd song First taught our English music how to span Words with just note and accent, not to scan With Midas ears, committing short and long; Thy worth and skill exempts thee from the throng, With praise enough for envy to look wan; 6 To after age thou shalt be writ the man, That with smooth air couldst humour best our tongue. M m Thou

Thou honor'st verse, and verse must lend her wing
To honor thee, the priest os Phœbus quire, 10
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.


On the religious memory of Mrs. CA T HA R INE THOMSON, my Christian friend, deceasd 16 Decem. 1646.

When faith and love, which parted from thee never,
Had ripen'd thy just foul to dwell with God,
Meekly thou didst 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, n

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.

to XV.

to the Lord General FAIRFAX.

Fairfax, whose name in arms through Europe rings,
Filling each mouth with envy or with praise,
And all her jealous monarchs with amaze
And rumors loud, that daunt remotest kings,

Thy firm unshaken virtue ever brings 5

Victory home, though new rebellions raise
Their Hydra heads, and the false North displays
Her broken league to imp their serpent wings.

O yet a nobler task awaits thy hand,

(For what can war, but endless war still breed ?) Till truth and right from violence be freed, 11

And public faith clear'd from the shameful brand Of public fraud. In vain doth valor bleed, While avarice and rapin share the land.


To the Lord General CROMWELL.

Cromwell, our chief of men, who through a cloud
Not of war only, but detractions rude,
Guided by faith and matchless fortitude,
To peace and truth thy glorious way hast plough'd,

And on the neck of crowned fortune proud 5
Hast rear'd God's trophies, and his work pursued,
WhileDarvven stream withbloodosScots imbrued,
And Dunbar field resounds thy praises loud,

And Worcester's laureat wreath. Yet much remains

M m 2 To To conquer still; peace hath her victories 10 No less renown'd than war: new foes arise Threatning to bind our souls with secular chains: Help us to save free conscience from the paw Of hireling wolves, whose gospel is their maw.


To Sir HE WRY VA ME the younger.

Vane, young in years, but in sage counsel old,
Than whom a better senator ne'er held
The helm of Rome, when gowns not arms repell'd
The fierce Epirot and the African bold,

Whether to settle peace, or to unfold 5

The drift of hollow states hard to be spell'd, Than to advise how war may best upheld Move by her two main nerves, iron and gold,

In all her equipage: besides to know g

Both spiritual pow'r and civil, what each means,
Whatsevers each, thou hastlearn'd, which fewhave
Theboundsofeitherswordtotheeweowe: (done:
Therefore on thy firm hand religion leans
In peace, and reckons thee her eldest son.


On the late massacre in PIEMONT Avenge, O Lord, thy staughter'd saints, whose bones Lie scatter'd on the Alpine mountains cold; Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old,


When all our fathers worfhipt stocks and stones, Forget not: in thy book record their groans 5 Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient fold Slain by the bloody Piemontefe that roll'd Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans The vales redoubled to the hills, and they ToHeav'n. Their martyr'd blood and afhes sow 10 O'er all th' Italian fields, where still doth sway The triple Tyrant; that from these may grow A hundred fold, who having learn'd thy way Early may fly the Babylonian woe.


On his B L IM D N E S S.

When I consider how my light is spent

Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
And that one talent which is death to hide,
Lodg'd with me useless, though my foul more bent

To serve therewith my Maker, and present 5
My true account, lest he returning chide; .
Doth God exact day-labor, light deny'd,
I fondly ask: But patience to prevent

That murmur, soon replies, God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts; who best 10
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best: his state

Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed,
And post o'er land and ocean without rest;
They also serve who only stand and wait.


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