As when those hinds that were transform'd to frogs 5 Rail'd at Latona's twin-born progeny, Which after held the sun and moon in fee. But this is got by casting pearl to hogs; That bawl for freedom in their senseless mood, And still revolt when truth would set them free. 10 Licence they mean when they cry Liberty; For who loves that, must first be wise and good; But from that mark how far they rove we see, For all this waste of wealth, and loss of blood. XIII. TO MR. H. LAWES, ON THE PUBLISHING HIS AIRS. HARRY, whose tuneful and well-measur'd song First taught our English music how to span Words with just note and accent, not to scan With Midas' ears, committing short and long; Thy worth and skill exempts thee from the throng, 5 With praise enough for envy to look wan; To after age thou shalt be writ the man, That with smooth air could'st humour best our tongue. 10 Thou honour'st verse, and verse must lend her wing XIV. On the religious memory of MRS. CATHARINE THOMSON, my christian friend, deceased 16 Dec. 1646. WHEN faith and love, which parted from thee never, 11 XV. TO THE LORD GENERAL FAIRFAX. FAIRFAX, whose name in arms through Europe rings, Filling each mouth with envy or with praise, Thy firm unshaken virtue ever brings Victory home, though new rebellions raise O yet a nobler task awaits thy hand, 5 (For what can war, but endless war still breed?) 10 Till truth and right from violence be freed, And public faith clear'd from the shameful brand XVI. TO THE LORD GENERAL CROMWELL. CROMWELL, our chief of men, who through a cloud, Not of war only, but detractions rude, Guided by faith and matchless fortitude, 5 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, While Darwen stream, with blood of Scots imbrued, And Dunbar field resounds thy praises loud, And Worcester's laureat wreath. Yet much remains To conquer still; peace hath her victories No less renown'd than war: new foes arise Threat'ning to bind our souls with secular chains:Help us to save free conscience from the paw Of hireling wolves, whose gospel is their maw. 10 XVII. 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 The fierce Epirot and the African bold; Whether to settle peace, or to unfold The drift of hollow states hard to be spell'd; Then to advise how war may, best upheld, Move by her two main nerves, iron and gold, In all her equipage: besides to know 5 Both spiritual pow'r and civil, what each means, 10 What severs each, thou hast learn'd, which few have done : The bounds of either sword to thee we owe : XVIII. On the late Massacre in Piemont. AVENGE, O Lord, thy slaughter'd saints, whose bones 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 fold Slain by the bloody Piemontese that roll'd Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans The vales redoubled to the bills, and they 5 To Heav'n. Their martyr'd blood and ashes sow 10 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 woe. XIX. ON HIS BLINDNESS. WHEN I consider how my light is spent Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed, And post o'er land and ocean without rest; 5 10 XX TO MR. LAWRENCE. LAWRENCE, of virtuous father, virtuous son, The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire Of Attic taste, with wine, whence we may rise 5 10 XXI. TO CYRIAC SKINNER. 5 CYRIAC, whose grandsire, on the royal bench Tow'ard solid good what leads the nearest way; 10 |