صور الصفحة
النشر الإلكتروني

Who liv'd in both, unftain'd with gold or fee,

And left them both, more in himself content Till fad the breaking of that Parlament

Broke him, as that dishonest victory

At Chæronea, fatal to liberty,

Kill'd with report that old man eloquent. Though later born than to have known the days father florish'd, yet by you,



Madam, methinks I fee him living yet?

So well your words his noble virtues praise,
That all both judge you to relate them true,
And to poffefs them, honor'd Margaret.




On the detraction which follow'd upon my writing certain treatifes.

A book was writ of late call'd Tetrachordon,

And woven close, both matter, form and ftile; The subject new: it walk'd the town a while, Numbering good intellects; now seldom por❜d on. Cries the ftall-reader, Bless us! what a word on 5 A title page is this! and fome in file

Stand spelling false, while one might walk to MileEnd Green. Why is it harder Sirs than Gordon, Colkitto, or Macdonnel, or Galasp?

9 Those rugged names to our like mouths grow fleek, That would have made Quintilian stare and gasp. Thy age, like ours, O Soul of Sir John Cheek,


Hated not learning worse than toad or asp,
When thou taught'ftCambridge, and kingEdward

[blocks in formation]

I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs
By the known rules of ancient liberty,
When straight 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 casting pearl to hogs;
That bawl for freedom in their senseless mood, 9
And ftill revolt when truth would fet them free.
Licence they mean when they cry Liberty;
For who loves that, must first be wise and good;
But from that mark how far they rove we see
For all this waste of wealth, and loss of blood.

To Mr. H. LAWES on his Airs.

Harry, whose tuneful and well-measur'd song
First taught our English music how to span
Words with just note and accent, not to scan
With Midas ears, committing short and long;
Thy worth and skill exempts thee from the throng,
With praise enough for envy to look wan;
To after age thou shalt be writ the man,
That with smooth air couldft humour best our



M m


Thou honor'st verse, and verse must lend her wing

To honor thee, the priest of Phœbus quire, 10 That tun'ft their happiest lines in hymn, or story. Dante shall give fame leave to set 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 THOMSON, my Chriftian friend, deceas'd 16 Decem. 1646.

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

Of death, call'd life; which us from life doth fever. Thy works and alms and all thy good endevor 5 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 bliss for ever. Love led them on, and faith who knew them best Thy hand-maids, clad them o'er with purple beams And azure wings, that up they flew fo dreft, 11 And spake the truth of thee on glorious themes Before the Judge, who thenceforth bid thee rest And drink thy fill of pure immortal streams.



To the Lord General FAIRFAX.

Fairfax, whose name in arms through Europe rings,
Filling each mouth with envy or with praise,
And all her jealous monarchs with amaze
And rumors loud, that daunt remoteft 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 serpent 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 shameful brand Of public fraud. In vain doth valor bleed, While avarice and rapin fhare the land.


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 matchlefs 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

[blocks in formation]

To conquer ftill; peace hath her victories


No less renown'd than war: new foes arise Threatning to bind our souls with fecular chains : Help us to fave free conscience 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 senator ne'er held The helm of Rome, when gowns not arms repell'd The fierce Epirot and the African bold, Whether to settle peace, or to unfold


The drift of hollow ftates hard to be spell'd, Than to advise how war may best upheld Move by her two main nerves, iron and gold, In all her equipage: besides to know 9

Both spiritual pow'r and civil, what each means, What fevers each, thou haft learn'd, which few have The bounds of either sword to thee we owe: (done: Therefore on thy firm hand religion leans


peace, and reckons thee her eldest fon..


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 so pure of old,


« السابقةمتابعة »