Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth, All is, if I have grace to use it so, 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. The house of Pindarus, when temple and to we To save the Athenian walls from ruin bare IX. 10 THE LADY MARGARET LEY DAUGHTER to that good earl, once president Kill'd with report that old man eloquent. Though later born than to have known the days Wherein father flourish'd, yet by you, your 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. X. ON THE DETRACTION WHICH FOLLOWED UPON MY WRITING CERTAIN TREATISES. A BOOK was writ of late, called Tetrachordon, Stand spelling false, while one might walk to MileEnd Green. Why is it harder, sirs, than Gordon, Colkitto, or Macdonnel, or Galasp? Those rugged names to our like mouths grow sleck, 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 When straight a barbarous noise environs me 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. XII. TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY. LADY, that in the prime of earliest youth 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 feastfu 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 XIV. On the RELIGIOUS MEMORY OF MRS. CATHERINE THOMSON, DECEASED, DECEMBER 16, 1646. WHEN faith and love, which parted from thee neve. 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, and 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, 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 valour bleed, While avarice and rapine share the land. |