« السابقةمتابعة »
XV. To the Lord General Fairfax.
Fairfax, whofe name in arms through Europe rings,
And rumors loud, that daunt remoteft kings,
Thy firm unfhaken virtue ever brings 5
Viftory home, though new rebellions raife
Her broken league to imp their ferpent wings.
(For what can war, but endlefs war ftill breed?) 10
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,
XVI. To the Lord General Cromwell.
Cromwell, our chief of men, who through a cloud
To peace and truth thy glorious way halt plough'd,
And on the neck of crowned Fortune proud e
Haft rear'd God's trophies, and his work purfuedr While Darwen ftream with blood of Scots imbrued,
And Dunbar field refounds thy praifes loud,
And Worcefter's laureat wreath. Yet much remains To conquer ftill; Peace hath her victories 10
No lefs renown'd than War: new foes arife
Threatning to bind our fouls with fecular chains:
XVII. To Sir Henry Vane the younger.
Vane, young in years, but in fage counfel old,
The fierce Epirot and the African bold,
Whether to fettle peace, or to unfold 5
The drift of hollow ftates hard to be fpcll'd
Move by her two main nerves, iron and gold,
What fevers each, thou' haft learn'd, which few have
In peace, and reckons thee her cldcft ion.
XVIII. On the late maffacrc in Piemont.
Avenge, O Lord, thy flaughter'd faints, whofe bones
When all our fathers worfhipt ftocks and ftones,
Forget noti in thy book record their groans 5
Who were thy fhecp, and in their ancient fold
Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans
To Heav'n. Their martyr'd blood and afhes fow 10
The triple Tyrant; that from thefe may grow
Early may fly the Babylonian woe.
XIX. On Ms Uinintfi.
When I confider how my light is fpent
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide,
Lodg'd with me ufelefs, though my foul more bent
To ferve therewith my Maker, and prefent 5
My true account, left he returning chide;
1 fondly afk i but patience to prevent
That murmur, foon replies, God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts; who beft 10
And poft o'er land and ocean without reft;
XX. To Mr. Lawrence.
Lawrence, of viituous father virtuous fon,
Now that the fields are dank, and ways are mire,
Help wafte a fullen day, what may be won
From the hard feafon gaining ? time will run 5
On fmoother, till Favonius re-infpire
The lilly' and rofe, that neither fow'd nor (pun.
Of Attic tafte, with wine, whence we may rife 10
To interpofe them oft, is not unwife.
XXI. To Cyriac Skinner.
Ctriac, whofe grandfire on the royal bench
Which others at their bar fo often wrench;
To day deep thoughts refolvc with me to drench 5
And what the Swede intends, and what the French.
To mcafure life learn thou betimes, and know Tow'ard folid good what leads the near eft way; lo For other things mild Heav'n a time ordains, And difapproves that care, though wife in ibow. That with fupei fluous buiden loads the day,
And when God fends a cheerful hour, refrains.
XXII. To the fame.
CvniAc.thisthree years day thefe eyes, though clear,
Nor to their idle orbs doth fight appear
Of fun, or moon, or ftar throughout the year, 5
Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not
Of heart or hope; but Hill bear up and fleer
Right onward. What fupports me, doft thou alk?
The confeience, Friend, to' have loft them overply'd In Liberty's defence, my noble tafk, II
Of which all Europe talks from fide to fide.
This thought might lead me thro' the world's vain
Content though blind, had I no better guide, [maul
XXIII. On his deceafed wife.
Methought I faw my late efpoufed faint
Refcued from death by force, though pale and faint.