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WHEN THE ASSAULT WAS INTENDED TO THE CITY.
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,
Whatever clime the sun's bright circle warms. Lift not thy spear against the Muses' bower :
The great Emathian conqueror bid spare
The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower Went to the ground ; and the repeated air
Of sad Electra's poet had the power
[TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY.] LADY, that in the prime of earliest youth
Wisely hast shunned the broad way and the green,
That labour up the hill of heavenly Truth,
Chosen thou hast; and they that overween,
No anger find in thee, but pity and ruth.
To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light,
And hope that reaps not shame. Therefore be sure Thou, when the Bridegroom with his feastful friends
Passes to bliss at the mid-hour of night,
TO THE LADY MARGARET LEY.
DAUGHTER to that good Earl, once President
Of England's Council and her Treasury,
And left them both, more in himself content, Till the sad breaking of that Parliament
Broke him, as that dishonest victory
Killed with report that old man eloquent,
Wherein your father flourished, yet by you,
Madam, methinks I see him living yet :
That all both judge you to relate them true
ON THE DETRACTION WHICH FOLLOWED UPON MY
WRITING CERTAIN TREATISES.
A BOOK was writ of late called Tetrachordon,
And woven close, both matter, form, and style ;
Numbering good intellects; now seldom pored on, Cries the stall-reader, “Bless us ! what a word on
A title-page is this !”; and some in file
End Green. Why, is it harder, sirs, than Gordon,
sleek, 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,
ON THE SAME.
By the known rules of ancient liberty,
Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes, and dogs ; As when those hinds that were transformed to frogs
Railed at Latona's twin-born progeny,
But this is got by casting pearl to hogs,
And still revolt when Truth would set them free.
Licence they mean when they cry Liberty ;
But from that mark how far they rove we see,
ON THE NEW FORCERS OF CONSCIENCE UNDER THE
And with stiff vows renounced his Liturgy,
From them whose sin ye envied, not abhorred, Dare ye for this adjure the civil sword
To force our consciences that Christ set free,
Taught ye by mere A. S. and Rutherford ?
Would have been held in high esteem with Paul
Must now be named and printed heretics
But we do hope to find out all your tricks,
That so the Parliament
And succour our just fears, When they shall read this clearly in your charge : New Presbyter is but old Priest writ large
First taught our English music how to span
With Midas' ears, committing short and long, Thy worth and skill exempts thee from the throng,
With praise enough for Envy to look wan;
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 wooed to sing,
ON THE RELIGIOUS MEMORY OF MRS. CATHERINE
THOMSON, MY CHRISTIAN FRIEND,
DECEASED DEC. 16, 1646.
Had ripened thy just soul to dwell with God,
Thy works, and alms, and all thy good endeavour,
Stayed not behind, nor in the grave were trod;
Followed 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,
Before the Judge ; who thenceforth bid thee rest,
ON THE LORD GENERAL FAIRFAX, AT THE
SIEGE OF COLCHESTER.
Filling each mouth with envy or with praise,
And rumours loud that daunt remotest kings,
Victory home, though new rebellions raise
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,
Of public fraud. In vain doth Valour bleed,
XVI. TO THE LORD GENERAL CROMWELL, MAY 1652, ON THE PROPOSALS OF CERTAIN MINISTERS AT THE COM
MITTEE FOR PROPAGATION OF THE GOSPEL.
CROMWELL, our chief of men, who through a cloud
Not of war only, but detractions rude,