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On his being arriv'd to the age of 23.
How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth,

Stoln on his wing my three and twentieth year !
My hafting days fly on with full carreer,

But my late spring no bud or blossom Mew'th.
Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth,

5 That I to manhood am arriv'd so near, And inward ripeness doth much less appear, That some more timely-happy spirits indu'th. Yet be it less or more, or soon or flow,

It shall be still in strictest measure even
Ć To that same lot, however mean or high,
Toward which Time leads me, and the will of Heaven;

All is, if I have grace to use it fo,
As ever in my great Task-master's eye.



When the assault was intended to the City.
Captain or Colonel, or Knight in arms,

Whose chance on these defenseless doors may seize,
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,
And he can spread thy name o'er lands and feas,
Whatever clime the sun's bright circle warms,

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Lift not thy spear against the Muses' bower :

The great Emathian conqueror bid spare

The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower
Went to the ground : and the repeated air

Of sad Electra's poet had the power
To fave th’ Athenian walls from ruin bare.


To a virtuous young Lady. Lady, that in the prime of earliest youth

Wisely hath shunn'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

5 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 thy odorous lamp with deeds of light,

And hope that reaps not shame. Therefore be sure Thou, when the bridegroom with his feaftful friends

Passes to bliss at the mid hour of night,
Haft gain'd thy entrance, Virgin wise and pure.


To the Lady Margaret Ley.
Daughter to that good Earl, once President

Of England's Council, and her Treasury,
Who liv'd in both, unftain'd with gold or fee.


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And left them both, more in himself content,
Till fad the breaking of that Parliament

Broke him, as that dishonest victory
At Chæronea, fatal to liberty,
Kill'd with


that old man eloquent. Though later born than to have known the days Wherein


father florish’d, yet by you, Madam, methinks I see him living yet ; So well


words his noble virtues praise, That all both judge you to relate them true, And to possess them, honor'd Margaret.

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XI. On the detraction which followed upon my writing

certain treatises.
A book was writ of late callid Tetrachordon,

And woven close, both matter, form and stile ;
The subject new ; it walk'd the town a while,

Numbering good intellects; now seldom por'd on. Cries the stall-reader, Bless us ! what a word on

5 A title-page is this! and some in file Stand spelling false, while one might walk to Mile

End Green. Why is it harder, Sirs, than Gordon, Colkitto, or Macdonnel, or Galasp?

Those rugged names to our like mouths grow fleek,

That would have made Quintilian stare and grasp. Thy age, like ours, O Soul of Sir John Cheek,

Hated not learning worse than toad or asp,
When thou taught'st Cambridge, and king Edward


On the same.

I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs

By the known rules of ancient liberty,
When strait a barbarous noise environs me

Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes, and dogs :
As when those hinds that were transform’d to frogs s

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.


To Mr. H. L Awes 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 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.



Thou honor'st verse, and verse must lend her wing

To honor thee, the priest of Phæbus' quire,

That tun'st their happiest lines in hymn, or story.
Dante shall give fame leave to set thee higher

Than his Casella, whom he woo'd to sing,
Me tin the milder shades of purgatory.


On the religious memory of Mrs. CATHARINE Thomson, my christian 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 sever. 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 bliss 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.



XV. Ta

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