To that fame lot, however mean or high, Toward whichTime leads me,and the will of Heav'n. All is, if I have grace to use it so, As ever in my great Task-master's eye.
SONNET VIII.
To the Soldier to spare his Dwelling-place. Captain, or Colonel, or Knight in Arms,
Whose chance on these defenceless doors may If deed of honour did thee ever please, [sease, Guard them, and him within protect from harms. He can requite thee, for he knows the charms
That call Fame on fuch gentle acts as these; And he can spread thy name o'er Lands and Seas, Whatever clime the Sun's bright circle warmsLift not thy fpear against the Muses Bowre.
The great Emathian Conqueror did spare The house of Pindarus, when Temple and Went to the ground: And the repeated air Towre Of fad Electra's Poet had the power To fave th' Athenian Walls from ruin bare.
SONNET IX.
To a Lady.
Lady that in the prime of earliest youth,
Wifely, haft fhun'd the broad way and the green,
And with those few art eminently seen,
That labour up the Hill of Heav'nly Truth,
The better part with Mary and with Ruth
Chosen thou haft; and they that overween,
And at thy growing virtues fret their spleen,
No anger find in thee, but pity and ruth.
Thy care is fixt, and zealously attends
To fill thy odorous Lamp with deeds of light,
And Hope that reaps not fhame. Therefore be
fure
Thou, when the bridegroom with his feastful friends
Paffes to bliss at the mid hour of night,
Haft gain'd thy entrance, Virgin wife and pure.
SONNET X.
To the Lady Margaret Lee, Daughter to the Earl
of Marlborough.
Daughter to that good Earl, once President
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 the fad breaking of that Parliament
Broke him; as that dishonest victory
At Charonea, fatal to Liberty,
Kill'd with report that old man eloquent,
Though later born, than to have known the days
Wherein Father flourisht, yet by you,
your
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 poffefs them, Honour'd Margaret.
SONNET
XI.
On the Reception his Book of Divorce met with. A Book was writ of late call'd Tetrachordon,
And woven close, both matter, form and ftile ; The Subject new: it walk'd the Town a while, Numb'ring good intellects; now feldom por❜d on. Cries the ftall-reader, Bless us! what a word on
A title page is this! and fome in file
Stand spelling falfe, while one might walk to Mile-
End Green. Why it is harder Sirs than Gordon,
Y 4
Col
Colkitto, or Macdonnel, or Galafp?
[fleek,
Those rugged Names to our like mouths grow
That would have made Quintilian ftare and gafp.
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 [Greek
SONNET XII.
On the fame.
I 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 Cuckoes, Affes, Apes and Dogs:
As when those Hinds that were transform'd to Frogs
Rail'd at Latona's twin-born Progenie,
Which after held the Sun and Moon in fee.
But this is got by cafting Pearl to Hogs;
That bawle for freedom in their senseless mood,
And still revolt when truth would fet 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 roave we fee
For all this waste of wealth, and lofs of blood.
SONNET XIII.
To Mr. H. Lawes, on his Aires.
Harry, whofe tuneful and well-measur❜d Song
First taught our English Musick how to span
Words with juft note and accent, not to scan
With Midas' Ears, committing fhort and long;
Thy worth and skill exempts thee from the throng,
With praise enough for Envy to look wan:
To after age thou shalt be writ the man,
[tongue.
That with fmooth aire couldft humour beft our
Thou honour'ft Verfe; and Verfe must send her wing
To honour thee, the Priest of Phebus' Quire,
That tun'ft the happiest lines in Hymn or Story.
Dante fhall give Fame leave to set thee higher
Than his Cafella, whom he woo'd to fing,
Met in the milder fhades of Purgatory.
SONNET XIV.
An Elegy.
When Faith and Love,which parted from thee never,
Had ripen'd thy juft Soul to dwell with God,
Meekly thou didst resign this earthy load
Of Death,call'd Life,which us from life doth fever.
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