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TO THE LORD GENERAL CROMWELL,
ON THE PROPOSALS OF CERTAIN MINISTERS AT THE
CROMWELL, our chief of men, who through a cloud
Guided by faith and matchless fortitude,
To peace and truth thy glorious way hast plough'd,
And on the neck of crowned Fortune proud
Hast rear'd God's trophies, and his work pursued,
Help us to save free conscience from the paw
TO SIR HENRY VANE THE YOUNGER.
VANE, young in years, but in sage counsel old,
Than whom a better senator ne'er held
The helm of Rome, when gowns, not arms, repell'd
Whether to settle peace, or to unfold
The drift of hollow states hard to be spell'd;
Move by her two main nerves, iron and gold,
In all her equipage; besides, to know
Both spiritual power and civil, what each means,
The bounds of either sword to thee we owe:
In peace, and reckons thee her eldest son.
ON THE LATE MASSACRE IN PIEMONT.
AVENGE, O Lord, thy slaughter'd saints, whose bones
Forget not in thy book record their groans
Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient fold
To heaven. Their martyr'd blood and ashes sow
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;
Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best
Is kingly thousands at his bidding speed,
And post o'er land and ocean without rest;
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
Of Attic taste, with wine, whence we may rise
He who of those delights can judge, and spare
TO CYRIACK SKINNER.
CYRIACK, whose grandsire on the royal bench
And what the Swede intends, and what the French.
Toward solid good what leads the nearest way;
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 talks from side to side.
This thought might lead me through the world's vain mask
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 wash'd 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. 1
Her face was veil'd; 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.
SCRAPS FROM THE PROSE WRITINGS.
FROM OF REFORMATION TOUCHING CHURCH DISCIPLINE IN ENGLAND,' 1641.
[DANTE, Inferno, XIX. 115.]
AH, Constantine, of how much ill was cause,
[PETRARCH, Sonnet 107.]
FOUNDED in chaste and humble poverty,
'Gainst them that raised thee dost thou lift thy horn,
[ARIOSTO, Orl. Fur. xxxiv. Stanz. 80.]
THEN passed he to a flowery mountain green,
FROM THE APOLOGY FOR SMECTYMNUUS, 1642.
[HORACE, Sat. 1. 1, 24.]
LAUGHING to teach the truth
What hinders? as some teachers give to boys