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Those rugged names to our like mouths grow sleek, 10

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 aip,
When thou taught'st Cambridge, and king Edward



On the same.


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 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 sun and moon in fee.

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
For all this waste of wealth, and loss of blood.


here wrongously named Galasp, was one of the Scotch commisGioners to the Westminster assembly. But who the other persons were is not known. It appears from this sonnet, and the verses on the forcers of conscience, that Milton treats the Presbyterians with great contempt.

* This Gentleman was the firft Professor of the Greek tongue in the University of Cambridge, and was highly instrumental in bringing that language into repute. He was afterwards made one of the tutors to Edward VI.


To Mr. H. LAWES 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, 5

With praise enough for envy to look wan;
To after age thou shalt be writ the man,

That with smooth air could'st humour best our tongue. Thou honor'lt verse, and verse must lend her wing

To honor thee, the priest of Phæbus quire,

That tun'st their happieft lines in hymn or ftory.
Dante hall give fame leave to set thee higher

Than his Casella, whom he woo'd to fing
Met in the milder shades of purgatory.



On the religious memory of Mrs. Catharine Thomfon, my christian friend, deceas'd 16 Dec. 1646 t.

When faith and love, which parted from thee never,

Had ripen'd thy just foul to dwell with God,
Meekly thou didit resign this earthly load
Of death, call'd life ; which us from life doth sever.


* This Mr. Henry Lawes was a gentleman of the King's chapel, and one of his band of music, and an intimate friend of Milton.

+ Who this Mrs. Thomson was, fays Dr Newton, we cannot be eertain; but I find in the accounts of Milton's life, that when he was first made Latin Secretary, he lodged at one Thomson's next door to the Bull-head tavern at Charing -Cross. This Mrs. Thomfun therefore was in all probability one of that family.

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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 10

And azure wings, that up they flew fo 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 ftreams.

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

Victory home, though new rebellions raise
Their Hydra heads, and the false North displays

Her broken league to imp their ferpent wings.
O yet a nobler talk awaits thy hand,

(For what can war, but endless war still breed :)
Till truth and right from violence be freed,
And public faith cleard from the shameful brand

Of public fraud. In vain doth valor bleed,
While avarice and rapin share the land.


* This fonnet appears from the manuscript to have been addresled to Gen. Fairfax at the fiege of Colchester, which was carried on in the summer 1648.

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 haft plough’d, And on the neck of crowned fortune proud

5 Haft rear'd God's trophies, and his work pursued, While Darwen stream with blood of Scots imbrued,

And Dunbar field resounds thy praises loud,
And Worcester's laureat-wreath. Yet much remains

To conquer ftill ; peace hath her victories

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.






Vane, young in years, but in fage 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, Then to advise how war may best upheld Move by her two main nerves, iron and gold,

* In the Author's manuscript is this inscription. To the Lord General Cromwell, May 1652. On the proposals of certain ministero as the committee for popagation of the Gospel.


In all her equipage : besides to know

Both spiritual pow'r and civil, what each means,

What severs each, thou hast learn'd, which few have done: The bounds of either sword to thee we owe :

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 slaughter'd saints, whose bones

Lie scatter'd on the Alpine mountains cold ;
Ev'n them, who kept thy truth fo pure of old,

When all our fathers worshipt 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 Piemontese, that rollid
Mother with infant down the rocks.

Their moans The vales redoubled to the hills, and they

To Heav'n. Their martyr'd blood and alhes sow 10

O'er all the Italian fields, where still doth sway The triple Tyrant; that from these may grow

* This persecution of the Protestants in Piemont broke out in 1655. In May that year Cromwell wrote several letters to the Duke of Savoy, and other potentates and states, complaining of that persecution. Echard tells us, that he proclaimed a fast, and caused large contributions to be gathered for them in England ; that he sent his agents to the Duke of Savoy, a prince with whom he had no correspondence or commerce, and the next year so engaged Card. Mazarine, and even terrified the Pope himself, without so much as doing any favour to the English Roman Catholics, that the Duke thought it necessary to restore all that he had taken from them, and renewed all those privileges they had formerly enjoyed. “ So great (adds Echard) was the terror of his name; nothing “ being more usual than his saying, that his ships in the Mediter

ranean should vifit Civita Vecchia, and the sound of his cannon « should be heard in Rome."

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