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Ne treccio d'oro, ne guancia vermiglia

M'abbaglian fi, ma sotto nova idea
Pellegrina bellezza che'l chor bea,

Portamenti alti honefti, e nelle ciglia
Quel sereno fulgor d amabil nero,

Parole adorne di lingua piu d'una,

E'l cantar che di mezzo l'hemisfero
Traviar ben può la faticosa Luna,

E degli ocsbi suoi auventa si gran fuoco
Che l'incerar gli orecchi mi fia poco.

S O N N E T V.

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Per certo i bei vnfr'occhi, Donna mid

Eser non puo che non fian bo mio fole
Si mi percnoton forte, come ei suale

Per l'arene di Libia chi s'invia,
Mentre un caldo vapor (ne fenti pria)

Da quel late fi spinge ove mi duole,
che forse amanti nelle lor parole

Chiaman sospir; io non so che fi fia:
Parte rinchiusa, e turbida fi cela

Scuffo mi il petto, e poi n'uscendo poco

Quivi d'attorno o s'agghiaccia, o s'ingiela;
Ma quanto a gli occhi giunge a trovar loco

Tutte le notti a me suol far piovose.
Finche mia Alba rivien colma di rose.




Giovane piano, e semplicetto amante

Poi che fuggir me fteffo in dubbio sono,
Madonna a voi del mio cuor l'humil dono

Faro divoto; io certo a prove tante
L'hebbi fedele, intrepido, coftante,

De penfieri lezgiadro, accorto, e buono ;
Quando rugge il gran mondo, e scocca il tuono,

S'arma di se, e d'intero diamante,
Tanto del forse, e d'invidia ficuro,

Di timori, e speranze al popol use

Quanto d'ingegno, e d'alto valor vago,
E di cetra sonora, e delle muse:

Sol troverete in tal parte men duro
Ove amor mise l'infanabil ago.


On his being arriv'd to bis 234 Year. How soon hath Time, the suttle chief of youth,

Stoln on his wing my three and twentieth year! My hafting days flie on with full career,

But my late spring no bud or blossom shew'th. Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth,

That I to manhood am arriv'd so near,
And inward ripeness dot h much less appear,
That some more timely happy spirits indu’sh.

Yet be it less or more, or soon or Now,

It shall be still in ftri&test measure ev'n,

To that same lot, however mean or high, Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heav'a;

All is, if I have grace to use it so,
As ever in my great task-Master's eye.

SONNET VIII. To the Soldier to Spare his Dwelling-place. Captain or Colonel, or Knight in Arms, Whose chance on these defenceless doors may sease, If ever deed of honour did thee please,

Guard them, and him within protect from harms. He can requite thee, for he knows the charms

That call Fame on such gentle acts as these,
And he can spread thy name o'er Lands and Seas,

What ever clime the Sun's bright circle warms. Lift not thy spear against the Muses Bowre,

The great Emathian Conqueror bid spare

The house of Pindarus, when Temple and Towie Went to the ground : And the repeated air

Of sad EleEtra's Poet had the power
To save th’ Athenian Walls from ruin barc,



To a Lady. Lady that in the prime of earliest youth, Wisely haft fhun’d the broad way and the green,


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And with those few art eminently seen,

That labour up the Hill of Heav'nly Truth,
The better part with Mary and with Ruth

Chosen thou hast, and they that overweca,
And at thy growing virtues frer their spleen,

No anger find in thee, but pity and ruch.
Ihy care is fixt and zealousy attends

To fill thy odorous Lamp with deeds of light,

And Hope that reaps not hame. Therefore be sure Thou, when the bridegroom with his feastful friends

Palles to bliss at the mid hour of night,
Haft gain'd thy entrance Virgin wise and pure.

SON N E T X. To the Lady Margaret Lee, Daughter to the Earlof

Daughter to that good Earl, once President

Of England's Council, and her Treasury,
Who liv'd in both, unftain'd with gold or fec,

And left them both, more in himself content, Till the sad breaking of that Parliament

Broke him, as that dishoneft victory
At Charonea, fatal to Liberty,

Kill'd with report that old man eloquent, Though later born, than to have known the days

Wherein your Father flourisht, yet by you,

Madam, methinks I see him living yet ; So well your words his noble virtues praise, That all both judge you to relate them trucs nd to poftels them, Honour’d Margares.

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On the Reception his Book of Divorce met with
A Book was writ of late call'd Tetrachordon;

And woven close, both matter, form and stike;
The Subject new : it walk'd the Town a while,

Numb’ring good intellects; now seldom por'd ok.
Cries the stall-reader, Bless us! what a word on

A title page is this! and some in file
Stand spelling false, while one might walk to Mile-

End Green. Why is it harder Sirs than Gordon,
Colkitto, or Macdonnel, or Galasp?

Those rugged Names to our like mouths grow sleek,

That would have made Quintilian ftare and gasp.
Thy age, like ours, O Soul of Sir John Cheek,

Hated not Learning worse than Toad or Afp;
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 Cuckoes, Asses, Apes and Dogs.
As when those Hinds that were transform’d to Frogs

Rail'd at Latona's twin-bora Progenie
Which after held the Sun and Moon in fee..
But this is got by casting Pearl to Hogsa

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