Lie scatter'd on the Alpine mountains cold Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones, Forget not in thy book: record their groans Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient folds Slain by the bloody Piedmontese, that roll'd Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moan The vales redoubled to the hills, and they To Heaven. Their martyr'd blood and ashes sow O'er all th' Italian fields, where still doth sway The triple Tyrant: that from these may grow A hundred fold, who having learn'd thy way, Early may fly the Babylonian wo. ON HIS BLINDNESS. WHEN I consider how my light is spent Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide, Lodg'd with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest he, returning, chide; Doth God exact day-labour, light denied? I fondly ask: but Patience, to prevent That murmur, soon replies, God doth not need Either man's work, or his own gifts; who best Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best; his state Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed, And post o'er land and ocean without rest; They also serve who only stand and wait. TO MR. LAWRENCE.* LAWRENCE, of virtuous father virtuous son, The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire TO CYRIAC SKINNER.t CYRIAC, whose grandsire, on the royal bench And what the Swede intends, and what the French: To measure life learn thou betimes, and know *This Mr. Lawrence was the Son of the President of Cromell's council. + Cyriac Skinner was the son of William Skinner, Esqr., and grandson of Sir Vincent Skinner, and his mother was daughter of the famous Lord Chief Justice Coke. Mr. Wood relates that he was one of Harrington's political club, and sometimes held the chair; and further adds, that he was a merchant's son of London, an ingenious young gentleman, and scholar to John Milton. Tow'rd 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. TO THE SAME. CYRIAC, this three-years-day these eyes, though clear. Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of which all Europe talks from side to side. This thought might lead me through the world's vain mask Content, though blind, had I no better guide. ON HIS DECEASED WIFE.* METHOUGHT I saw my late espous'd saint *This was his second wife, Catharine, the daughter of Captain Woodcock of Hackney, who lived with him not above a year after their marriage, and died in child-bed of a daughter. Mine, as whom wash'd from spot of child-bed taint, And such, as yet once more I trust to have person So clear, as in no face with more delight: shin'd I wak'd; she fled; and day brought back my night, BLESS'D is the man who hath not walk'd astray And in his law he studies, day and night. PSALM II. [Done August 8, 1653.] Terzette. WHY do the Gentiles tumult, and the nations |