A hundred fold, who having learn'd thy way
Early may fly the Babylonian woe.

XIX.

On his blindness.

When I confider 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 ferve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, left he returning chide;
Doth God exact day-labor, light deny'd,
I fondly afk: But patience to prevent
That murmur foon replies, God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts; who best
Bear his mild yoke, they ferve him beft: his ftate

Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed,

And post o'er land and ocean without reft;

They alfo ferve,who only stand and wait.

XX.

To Mr. LAWRENCE *.

Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous fon,

Now, that the fields are dank, and ways are mire,
Where shall we fometimes meet, and by the fire
Help waste a fullen day, what may be won
From the hard feason gaining? time will run

On fmoother, till Favonius re-inspire
The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire

The lilly' and rose, that neither sow'd nor spun.

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10

5

*This Mr. Lawrence was the fan of the Prefident of Cromwell's council.

What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice,

Of Attic tafte, with wine, whence we may rise
To hear the lute well touch'd, or artful voice
Warble immortal notes and Tuscan air?

He,who of those delights can judge, and spare
To interpofe them oft, is not unwife.

XXI.

To CYRIAC SKINNER*.

Cyriac, whofe grandfire on the royal bench
Of British Themis, with no mean applause
Pronounc'd and in his volumes taught our laws,
Which others at their bar fo often wrench;
To day deep thoughts refolve with me to drench
In mirth, that after no repenting draws;
Let Euclid reft and Archimedes paufe,

10

And what the Swede intends, and what the French. To measure life learn thou betimes, and know Toward folid good what leads the nearest way; For other things mild Heav'n a time ordains, And disapproves that care, tho' wife in show, That with fuperfluous burden loads the day, And,when God fends a chearful hour, refrains.

XXII.

To the fame.

Cyriac, this three years' day thefe eyes, tho' clear,
To outward view, of blemish or of spot,

*Cyriac Skinner was the fon of William Skinner, Efq; and grandfon of Sir Vincent Skinner, and his mother was daughter of the famous Lord Chief Justice Coke. Mr. Wood relates, that he was one of Harrington's political club, and fometimes held the chair; and farther adds, that he was a merchant's fon of London, an ingenious young gentleman and fcholar to John Milton,

Bereft of light their feeing have forgot,

Nor to their idle orbs doth fight appear

5

Of fun, or moon, or star throughout the year,
Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not
Against Heav'n's hand or will, nor bate a jot
Of heart or hope; but ftill bear up, and steer
Right onward. What fupports me, doft thou ask?
The confcience, Friend, to' have lost them overply'd 10
In liberty's defenfe, my noble task,

Of which all Europe talks from fide to fide.

[mask This thought might lead me through the world's vain Content, tho' blind, had I no better guide.

έπεθαι τῷ θεῷ.

XXIII.

On his deceased Wife *.

Methought I faw my late efpoufed faint
Brought to me like Alceftis from the grave,
Whom Jove's great fon to her glad husband gave,
Rescued from death by force, though pale and faint.
Mine, as whom wash'd from spot of child-bed taint
Purification in the old Law did fave,

And fuch, as yet once more I trust to have
Full fight of her in Heav'n without restraint,
Came vested all in white, pure as her mind:
Her face was veil'd, yet to my fancied fight
Love, fweetnefs, goodness, in her perfon fhin'd
So clear, as in no face with more delight.

But O as to embrace me the inclin'd,

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I wak'd, she fled, and day brought back my night.

*This was his fecond wife, Katharine the daughter of Capt. Woodcock of Hackney, who lived with him not above a year after their marriage, and died in childbed of a daughter,

SALM S.

PS

PSALM I. Done into verfe, 1653.

Besdoun fel of the wicked, and i'th' way

Lefs'd is the man, who hath not walk'd aftray

Of finners hath not stood, and in the feat

Of fcorners hath not fat. But in the great
Jehovah's law is ever his delight,
And in his law he ftudies day and night.
He shall be as a tree,which planted grows
By watry ftreams, and in his feafon knows
To yield his fruit, and his leaf fhall not fall,
And what he takes in hand fhall profper all.
Not fo the wicked, but as chaff, which fann'd
The wind drives, fo the wicked fhall not stand
In judgment, or abide their trial then,

Nor finners in th' affembly of just men.

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For the Lord knows the upright way of the juft, 15 And the way of bad men to ruin must.

PSAL. II. done Aug. 8. 1653. Terzette.

HY do the Gentiles tumult, and the nations

W Mufe a vain thing, the kings of th' earth upstand

a

With pow'r, and princes in their congregations Lay deep their plots together thro' each land Against the Lord and his Meffiah dear?

Let us break off, fay they, by ftrength of hand

M

5

Their bonds, and caft from us, no more to wear,

Their twisted cords: He,who in Heav'n doth dwell, Shall laugh, the Lord fhall fcoff them, then severe Speak to them in his wrath, and in his fell

And fierce ire trouble them; but I, faith he, Anointed have my King (though ye rebel) On Sion my holy' hill. A firm decree

I will declare; the Lord to me hath faid Thou art my Son, I have begotten thee This day; afk of me, and the grant is made; As thy poffeffion I on thee bestow

IO

15

Th' Heathen, and as thy conqueft to be fway'd Earth's utmoft bounds: them fhalt thou bring full low With iron scepter bruis'd, and them disperfe Like to a potter's veffel fhiver'd fo.

1

And now be wife at length,ye Kings averse,
Be taught,ye Judges of the earth; with fear
Jehovah ferve, and let your joy converse
With trembling; kifs the Son,left he appear
In anger, and ye perish in the way,

If once his wrath take fire like fuel fere.
Happy all thofe,who have in him their stay.

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25

PSAL. III. Aug. 9. 1653. When he fled from Abfalom.

LORD,how many are my foes!

many thofe,

That in arms against me rise!

Many are they,

That of my life diftruftfully thus fay, No help for him in God there lies.