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Sol troverete in tal parte men duro
On his being arriv'd to the age of 23.
But my late spring no bud or blossom fhew'th.
It fhall be ftill in ftricteft measure even
To that fame lot, however mean or high, Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven;
All is, if I have grace to use it so,
As ever in my great Task-Master's eye.
When the affault was intended to the City.
Whose chance on these defenfelefs doors may feise, If deed of honor did thee ever please,
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 fun's bright circle warms.
Lift not thy fpear against the Muses bow'r:
The house of Pindarus, when temple' and tow'r
To fave th' Athenian walls from ruin bare.
To the Lady Margaret Ley.
Daughter to that good Earl, once President
To a virtuous young Lady. Lady that in the prime of earliest youth
Wisely haft fhunn'd the broad way and the green, And with those few art eminently seen, That labor up the hill of heav'nly truth, The better part with Mary and with Ruth
Chofen thou haft; and they that overween, And at thy growing virtues fret their spleen, No anger find in thee, but pity' and ruth. Thy care is fix'd, and zealously attends
To fill the odorous lamp with deeds of light, And hope that reaps not shame. Therefore be fure Thou, when the bridegroom with his feastful friends Passes to bliss at the mid hour of night, Haft gain'd thy entrance, Virgin wife and pure. X.
Who liv'd in both, unftain'd with gold or fee,
Broke him, as that dishonest victory
Kill'd with report that old man eloquent.
Though later born than to have known the days Wherein father florish'd, yet by you,
Madam, methinks I fee him living yet;
On the detraction which follow'd upon my writing certain treatifes.
A book was writ of late call'd Tetrachordon,
Stand spelling false, while one might walk to MileEnd Green. Why is it harder Sirs than Gordon, Colkitto, or Macdonnel, or Galafp?
Those rugged names to our like mouths grow fleek, That would have made Quintilian ftare and gasp. Thy age, like ours, O Soul of Sir John Cheek,
Hated not learning worse than toad or afp, (Greek. When thou taught'ft Cambridge, and king Edward XII.
On the fame.
I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs
When straight a barbarous noise environs me
Which after held the fun and moon in fee. But this is got by cafting pearl to hogs; That bawl for freedom in their fenfeless mood,
And ftill revolt when truth would fet them free. 10
For who loves that, must first be wife and good;
To Mr. H. LA WES on 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 fhort 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 couldst humour beft our tongue. Thou honor'st verse, and verse must lend her wing To honor thee, the priest of Phœbus quire, That tun'ft their happiest lines in hymn, or story. Dante shall give fame leave to set thee higher Than his Cafella, whom he woo'd to fing Met in the milder fhades of purgatory.
On the religious memory of Mrs. Catharine Thomfon, my Chriflian friend, deceas'd 16 Decem. 1646.
When faith and love, which parted from thee never, Had ripen'd thy just soul to dwell with God, Meekly thou didst resign this earthly load
Of death, call'd life; which us from life doth fever. Thy works and alms and all thy good endevor 5
Stay'd not behind, nor in the grave were trod; But as faith pointed with her golden rod, Follow'd thee up to joy and blifs for ever. Love led them on, and faith who knew them best Thy hand-maids, clad them o'er with purple beams And azure wings, that up they flew so drest, And spake the truth of thee on glorious themes Before the Judge, who thenceforth bid thee rest And drink thy fill of pure immortal streams.