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IO

Dare ye for this adjure the civil sword

To force our consciences that Christ set free,

And ride us with a classic hierarchy
Taught ye by mere A. S. and Rotherford ?
Men whose life, learning, faith, and pure intent

Would have been held in high esteem with Paul,

Must now be named and printed Heretics,
By shallow Edwards and Scotch what-d'ye-call :

But we do hope to find out all your tricks,
Your plots and packing, worse than those of Trent;

That so the Parliament
May, with their wholesome and preventive shears,
Clip your phylacteries, though bauk your ears,

And succour our just fears,
When they shall read this clearly in your charge,
New Presbyter is but Old Priest writ large.

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O NIGHTINGALE! that on yon bloomy spray

Warblest at eve, when all the woods are still ;
Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart dost fill,

While the jolly Hours lead on propitious May.
Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day,

First heard before the shallow cuckoo's bill,
Portend success in love. O! if Jove's will

Have linked that amorous power to thy soft lay,
Now timely sing, ere the rude bird of hate

Fortell my hopeless doom in some grove nigh;

As thou from year to year hast sung too late
For my relief, yet hadst no reason why:

Whether the Muse, or Love call thee his mate,
Both them I serve, and of their train am I.

IO

ON HIS BEING ARRIVED TO THE AGE OF

TWENTY-THREE.

How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth,

Stolen on his wing my three and twentieth year!
My hasting days fly on with full career,

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

That I to manhood am arrived so near ;
And inward ripeness doth much less appear,
That some more timely-happy spirits indu'th.

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Yet be it less or more, or soon or slow,

It shall be still in strictest measure even

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 so,
As ever in my great Task-master's eye.

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WHEN THE ASSAULT WAS INTENDED

TO THE CITY.

CAPTAIN, or Colonel, or Knight in arms!

Whose chance on these defenceless doors may seize, If deed of honour 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 seas,

Whatever clime the sun's bright cirele warms.
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 save the Athenian walls from ruin bare.

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TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY.

LADY! that in the prime of earliest youth

Wisely hath shunned the broad way and the green, And with those few are eminently seen,

That labour up the hill of heavenly truth;
The better part with Mary and with Ruth

Chosen thou hast; and they that overween,
And at thy growing virtues fret their spleen,

No anger find in thee, but pity and ruth.
Thy care is fixed, and zealously attends

To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light,

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

Passes to bliss at the mid hour of night,
Hast gained 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 lived in both, unstained with gold or fee,

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

Broke him, as that dishonest victory
At Chæronea, fatal to liberty,

Killed with report that old man eloquent.
Though later born than to have known the days

Wherein your father flourished, yet by you,

Madam, methinks I see him living yet;
So well your words his noble virtues praise,

That all both judge you to relate them true,
And to possess them, honoured Margaret.

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ON THE DETRACTION WHICH FOLLOWED UPON MY WRITING CERTAIN TREATISES.

A BOOK was writ of late called “Tetrachordon,"

And woven close, both matter, form, and style;
The subject new; it walked the town a while,

Numb’ring good intellects; now seldom pored on.
Cries the stall-reader, “Bless us ! what a word on

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 sleek, 10
That would have made Quintilian stare and gasp.

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,

Greek.

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I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs

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

Of owls and cuccoos, asses, apes and dogs:
As when those hinds that were transformed to frogs

Railed 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.

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.

IC

TO MR. H. LAWES ON HIS AIRS.

HARRY! whose tuneful and well-measured 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,

With praise enough for Envy to look wan;
To after age thou shalt be writ the man

That with smooth air couldst humour best our tongue. Thou honourest verse, and verse must lend her wing

To honour thee, the priest of Phæbus' quire,

That tunest their happiest lines in hymn or story.
Dantè shall give Fame leave to set thee higher

Than his Casella, whom he woved to sing
Met in the milder shades of Purgatory.

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