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Those rugged names to our like mouths grow fleek, 10 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 aíp,

When thou taught'ft Cambridge, and king Edward Greek.


On the fame.

I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs
By the known rules of ancient liberty,
When ftrait a barbarous noise environs me
Of owls and cuccoos, affes, 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 cafting pearl to hogs ;
That bawl for freedom in their fenfelefs mood,
And ftill 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 rove,we fee
For all this waste of wealth, and lofs of blood.


here wrongoufly named Galafp, was one of the Scotch commiffioners to the Westminster affembly. But who the other perfons were is not known. It appears from this fonnet, and the verfes on the forcers of confcience, that Milton treats the Prefbyterians with great contempt.

*This Gentleman was the firft Profeffor of the Greek tongue in the Univerfity of Cambridge, and was highly inftrumental 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, whofe tuneful and well meafur'd song
First taught our English mufic how to span
Words with just note and accent, not to scan
With Midas ears, committing fhort and long;
Thy worth and skill exempts thee from the throng, 5
With praife enough for envy to look wan;

To after age thou shalt be writ the man,

That with fmooth air could'st humour beft our tongue. Thou honor'st verse, and verfe muft lend her wing

To honor thee, the priest of Phœbus quire,
That tun'st their happieft lines in hymn or story.
Dante fhall give fame leave to fet thee higher
Than his Cafella, whom he woo'd to fing
Met in the milder fhades of purgatory.



On the religious memory of Mrs. Catharine Thomfon, my chriftian friend, deceas'd 16 Dec. 1646 +.

When faith and love, which parted from thee never,
Had ripen'd thy juft foul to dwell with God,
Meekly thou didst refign this earthly load

Of death, call'd life; which us from life doth fever.

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

+ Who this Mrs. Thomson was, fays Dr Newton, we cannot be certain; 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-Crofs. This Mrs. Thomfon therefore was in all probability one of that family.

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Thy works and 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 joy and blifs 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 dreft,
And spake the truth of thee on glorious themes
Before the Judge, who thenceforth bid thee reft
And drink thy fill of pure immortal streams.


To the Lord General FAIRFAX *.

Fairfax, whofe name in arms through Europe rings,
Filling each mouth with envy or with praife,
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 falfe North displays
Her broken league to imp their ferpent 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,
And public faith clear'd from the fhameful brand
Of public fraud. In vain doth valor bleed,
While avarice and rapin fhare the land.


*This fonnet appears from the manufcript to have been addreffed to Gen. Fairfax at the fiege of Colchester, which was carried on in the fummer 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
Haft rear'd God's trophies, and his work pursued,
While Darwen ftream with blood of Scots imbrued,
And Dunbar field refounds thy praises loud,
And Worcester's laureat wreath. Yet much remains
To conquer ftill; peace hath her victories
No lefs renown'd than war: new foes arife
Threatning to bind our fouls with fecular chains :
Help us to fave free confcience from the paw
Of hireling-wolves, whofe gospel is their maw.


To Sir HENRY VANE the younger.

Vane, young in years, but in fage counsel old,
Than whom a better fenator ne'er held



The helm of Rome, when gowns not arms repell'd The fierce Epirot and the African bold,

Whether to fettle peace, or to unfold

The drift of hollow ftates 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 manufcript is this infcription. To the Lord General Cromwell, May 1652. On the proposals of certain ministers at the committee for popagation of the Gospel.

In all her equipage: besides to know

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

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What fevers each, thou haft learn'd, which few have done:

The bounds of either fword to thee we owe :
Therefore on thy firm hand religion leans
In peace, and reckons thee her eldest son.


On the late maffacre in Piemont *.

Avenge, O Lord, thy flaughter'd faints, 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,

Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient fold
Slain by the bloody Piemontese, that roll'd
Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans
The vales redoubled to the hills, and they


To Heav'n. Their martyr'd blood and afhes fow 10 O'er all the Italian fields, where still doth sway The triple Tyrant; that from these may grow

This perfecution of the Proteftants in Piemont broke out in 1655. In May that year Cromwell wrote feveral letters to the Duke of Savoy, and other potentates and ftates, complaining of that perfecution. Echard tells us, that he proclaimed a fast, and caufed large contributions to be gathered for them in England; that he fent his agents to the Duke of Savoy, a prince with whom he had no correfpondence or commerce, and the next year fo engaged Card. Mazarine, and even terrified the Pope himself, without fo much as doing any favour to the English Roman Catholics, that the Duke thought it neceflary to restore all that he had taken from them, and renewed all thofe privileges they had formerly enjoyed. "So great (adds Echard) was the terror of his name; nothing "being more ufual than his faying, that his ships in the Mediter"ranean fhould vifit Civita Vecchia, and the found of his cannon "fhould be heard in Rome."

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