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Cyriac, whose grandsire, 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 so often wrench; To day deep thoughts resolve with me to drench

In mirth that, after, no repenting draws;

Let Euclid rest, and Archimedes pause, And what the Swede intends, and what the French. To measure life learn thou betimes, and know

Toward solid good what leads the nearest way;

For other things mild Heaven a time ordains, And disapproves that care, though wise in show,

That with superfluous burden loads the day, And when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains.

XVII.

TO THE SAME.

CYRIACK, this three years day these eyes, though

clear,
To outward view, of blemish or of spot,
Berest of light, their seeing have forgot ;

Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear
Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year,

Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not
Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot

Of heart or hope ; but still bear up and steer Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask? The conscience, Friend, to have lost them over

plied
In liberty's defence, my noble task,
Of which all Europe rings from side to side.
This thought might lead me through the world's

vain mask
Content though blind, had I no better guide.

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XVIII.

ON HIS

DECEASED WIFE.

METHOUGHT I saw my late espoused saint

Brought to me, like Alcestis, from the grave,
Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband gave,
Rescu'd 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 save,
And such, as yet once more I trust to have

Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint,
Came vested all in white, pure as her mind :

Her face was veil’d; yet to my fancied sight

Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shin'd So c!ear, as in no face with more delight

But 0, as to embrace me she inclin'd,
I wak’d; she fled; and day brought back my night.

ODES.

T 2

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