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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
[ON HIS BLINDNESS.]
WHEN I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,
Lodged 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?'
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;
[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 Help waste a sullen day, what may be won From the hard season gaining? Time will run
On smoother, till Favonius reinspire
The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire
Of Attic taste, with wine, whence we may rise
Warble immortal notes and Tuscan air?
He who of those delights can judge, and spare
[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,
[TO THE SAME.]
CYRIACK, this three years' day these eyes, though clear,
Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot
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
[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.
THE FIFTH ODE OF HORACE, LIB. I.,
Quis multâ gracilis te puer in rosâ.
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,
Plain in thy neatness? Oh, how oft shall he
Who now enjoys thee credulous, all gold;
Who always vacant, always amiable,
Hopes thee, of flattering gales
To whom thou untried seem'st fair! Me, in my vowed
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.]
AD PYRRHAM. ODE V.
Horatius ex Pyrrha illecebris tanquam e naufragio enataverat, cujus amore irretitos affirmat esse miseros.
QUIS multâ gracilis te puer in rosâ
Cui flavam religas comam
Qui nunc te fruitur credulus aureâ;
Fallacis Miseri quibus
Intentata nites. Me tabulâ sacer
Vestimenta maris Deo.
April, 1648.-J. M.
Nine of the Psalms done into Metre; wherein all, but what is in a different character, are the very words of the Text, translated from the original.
I THOU Shepherd that dost Israel keep,
Who leadest like a flock of sheep
Thy loved Joseph's seed,
That sitt'st between the Cherubs bright,
Shine forth, and from thy cloud give light,
2 In Ephraim's view and Benjamin's,
Awake1 thy strength, come, and be seen
3 Turn us again; thy grace divine
4 Lord God of Hosts, how long wilt thou,
Thy 2 smoking wrath, and angry brow,
5 Thou feed'st them with the bread of tears;