Thou honour'st Verse, and Verse must send her wing XIV. ON THE RELIGIOUS MEMORY OF MRS. CATHERINE THOMSON, WHEN Faith and Love, which parted from thee never, Of death, called life, which us from life doth sever. Before the Judge; who thenceforth bid thee rest, MY XV. ON THE LORD GENERAL FAIRFAX, AT THE SIEGE OF COLCHESTER, FAIRFAX, whose name in arms through Europe rings, Thy firm unshaken virtue ever brings Victory home, though new rebellions raise O yet a nobler task awaits thy hand (For what can war but endless war still breed?) XVI. TO THE LORD GENERAL CROMWELL, MAY 1652, ON THE PROPOSALS OF CERTAIN MINISTERS AT THE COMMITTEE FOR CROMWELL, our chief of men, who through a cloud To peace and truth thy glorious way hast ploughed, Hast reared God's trophies, and his work pursued, 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; 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 : Therefore on thy firm hand Religion leans In peace, and reckons thee her eldest son. XVIII. ON THE LATE MASSACRE IN PIEDMONT. AVENGE, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones When all our fathers worshiped stocks and stones, 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 XIX. [ON HIS BLINDNESS.] WHEN I consider how my light is spent Ere half my days in this dark world and wide, My true account, lest He returning chide, 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; XX. [TO MR. LAWRENCE.] LAWRENCE, of virtuous father virtuous son, Now that the fields are dank, and ways are mire, The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire Warble immortal notes and Tuscan air? 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. 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 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 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 Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint, Came vested all in white, pure as her mind. Her face was veiled; yet to my fancied sight Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shined 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. |