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Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth,

That I to manhood am arrived so near,

And inward ripeness doth much less appear, That some more timely-happy spirits endueth.

Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow, It shall be still in strictest measure even

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

Heaven;
All is, if I have grace to use it so,
As ever in my great Task-master's eye.

VIII.

WHEN THE ASSAULT WAS INTENDED TO THE CITY.

CAPTAIN, or colonel, or knight in arms,
Whose chance on these defenceless doors may

seize,
If deed of honour did thee ever 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, Whatever clime the sun's bright circle warms.

List not thy spear against the Muses' bower: The great Emathian conqueror bid spare

The house of Pindarus, when temple and towel Went to the ground: and the repeated air

of sad Electra's poet had the power To save tlie Athenian walls from ruin bare

IX.

10 THE LADY MARGARET LEY

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Daughter to that good earl, once president

Of England's council and her treasury,

Who lived in both, unstain'd with gold or fee, And left them both, more in himself content, Till sad the breaking of that parliament

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

Wherein your father flourish’d, 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 true,
And to possess them, honour'd Margaret.

ON THE DETRACTION WAICH FOLLOWED UPON MY WRITING

CERTAIN TREATISES.

A BOOK was writ of late, called Tetrachordon,

And woven close, both matter, form, and style:

The subject new; it walk'd the town awhile,
Numbering good intellects; now seidom pored on
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 slecka

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’st Cambridge and King Edward

Greek.

XI.

ON THE SAME.

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 cuckoos, asses, apes, and dogs:
As when those hinds, that were transform’d to frogs

Rail'd at Latona's twin-born progeny,

Which after held the sun and moon in fee. But this is got by casting pearl to hogs;

That bawl for freedom in their senseless mood And still revolt when truth would set 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.

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Lady, that in the prime of earliest youth
Wisely hast shunn'd the broad way and the green,

And with those few art eminently seen,
That labour

up

the hill of heavenly truth, The better part with Mary and with Ruth

Chosen thou hast; and they that overween,

And at thy growing virtues fret their spleen, No anger find in thee, but pity and ruth.

Thy care is fix’d, and zealously attends

To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light, And hope that reaps not shame. Therefore be sure Thou, when the bridegroom with his feastfiu

friends

Passes to bliss at the mid-hour of night, Hast gain’d thy entrance, virgin wise and pure.

XIII.

TO MR. H. LAWES, ON THE PUBLISHING HIS AIRS.

Harry, whose tuneful and well-measured 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 exempt 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 couldst humour best our tongue Thou honour'st verse, and verse must lend her wing

To honour thee, the priest of Phæbus' quire, That tunest their happiest lines in hymn or story.

Dante shall give Fame leave to set thee higher Than his Casella, whom he woo'd to sing, Met in the milder shades of purgatory.

XIV.

ON THE

RELIGIOUS MEMORY OF MRS. CATHERINE THOMSON,

DECEASED, DECEMBER 16, 1646. When faith and love, which parted from thee never

Had ripen’d thy just soul to dwell with God.

Meekly thou didst resign this earthly load Of death, call’d life; which us from life doth sever 'Thy works, and alms, aud all thy good endeavour

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 handmaids, clad them o'er with purple beams

And azure wings, that up they flew so drest, 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.

XV.

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 rumours loud that daunt remotest kings; Thy firm unshaken virtue ever brings

Victory home, though new rebellions raise

Their Hydra heads, and the false North displays Her broken league to imp their serpent wings.

O yet a nobler task awaits thy hand (For what can war, hut 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 valour bleed,

While avarice and rapine share the land.

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