And Worcester's laureate wreath yet much remains No less renowned than War: new foes arise, XVII TO SIR HENRY VANE THE YOUNGER. VANE, young in years, but in sage counsel old, The helm of Rome, when gowns, not arms, repelled Whether to settle peace, or to unfold The drift of hollow states hard to be spelled; Then to advise how war may best upheld In all her equipage; besides, to know Both spiritual power and civil, what each means, What severs each, thou hast learned, which few have done. The bounds of either sword to thee we owe : XVIII ON THE LATE MASSACRE IN PIEDMONT. AVENGE, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones Forget not in thy book record their groans Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient fold Slain by the bloody Piemontese, that rolled Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans The vales redoubled to the hills, and they To heaven. Their martyred blood and ashes sow O'er all the Italian fields, where still doth sway The triple Tyrant; that from these may grow A hundredfold, who, having learnt thy way, Early may fly the Babylonian woe. XIX [ON HIS BLINDNESS.] WHEN I consider how my light is spent Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest He returning chide, "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?" Who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best. Is kingly thousands at his bidding speed, And post o'er land and ocean without rest; His state XX [TO MR. LAWRENCE.] LAWRENCE, of virtuous father virtuous son, Now that the fields are dank, and ways are mire, Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire From the hard season gaining? On smoother, till Favonius reinspire The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire Of Attic taste, with wine, whence we may rise He who of those delights can judge, and spare XXI [TO CYRIACK SKINNER.] CYRIACK, whose grandsire on the royal bench And what the Swede intend, 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. XXII [TO THE SAME.] CYRIACK, this three years' day these eyes, though clear, Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot Right onward. The conscience, friend, to have lost them overplied Of which all Europe rings from side to side. This thought might lead me through the world's vain mask XXIII [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, Rescued from Death by force, though pale and faint. Mine, as whom washed from spot of child-bed taint Purification in the Old Law did save, And such as yet once more I trust to have Her face was veiled; yet to my fancied sight So clear as in no face with more delight. But, oh as to embrace me she inclined, I waked, she fled, and day brought back my night. [TRANSLATIONS.] THE FIFTH ODE OF HORACE, LIB. I., Quis multâ gracilis te puer in rosà, Rendered almost word for word, without rhyme, according to the Latin measure, as near as the language will permit. WHAT slender youth, bedewed with liquid odours, In wreaths thy golden hair, Plain in thy neatness? Oh, how oft shall he Who now enjoys thee credulous, all gold; Hopes thee, of flattering gales To whom thou untried seem'st fair! Me, in my vowed Picture, the sacred wall declares to have hung My dank and dropping weeds To the stern God of Sea. [As Milton inserts the original with his translation, as if to challenge comparison, it is right that we should do so too.] |