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To day deep thoughts refolve with me to drench
In mirth, that after no repenting drawes;
Let Euclid rest and Archimedes pause,

And what the Swede intend, and what the French. To measure life, learn thou betimes, and know Toward folid good what leads the nearest way; For other things mild Heav'n a time ordains, And disapproves that care, though wise in show, That with fuperfluous burden loads the day, And when God fends a cheerful hour, refrains.

XXII. To Mr. Cyriac Skinner.

Upon his Blindness.

AYRIAC this Three years day, thefe Eyes though

CYR

clear

To outward view of blemish or of Spot, Bereft of Sight, their Seeing have forgot: Nor to their idle Orbs doth day appear, Or Sun, or Moon, or Star, throughout the Year; Or Man, or Woman; yet I argue not

Against Heaven's Hand, or Will, nor bate one jot Of Heart or Hope; but ftill bear up, and steer Right onward. What fupports me, doft thou ask? The Conscience, Friend, to have loft them over In Liberties Defence, my noble task ; [ply'd Of which all Europe rings from side to side. This thought might lead me through this World's

vain mask

Content, though blind, had I no other Guide.

ΜΕ

XXIII.

ETHOUGHT I saw my late espoused Saint Brought to me like Alceftis from the grave, Whom Joves great Son to her glad Husband gave, Refcu'd from death by force though pale and faint. Mine as whom washt from spot of child-bed taint, Purification in the old Law did fave,

And such, as yet once more I trust to have Full fight of her in Heaven without restraint, Came vested all in white, pure as her mind: Her face was vail'd, yet to my fancied fight, Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shin'd So clear, as in no face with more delight.

But O as to embrace me she enclin'd

I wak'd, she fled, and day brought back my night.

Pfalms.

PSAL. I. Done into Verfe, 1653.

B

LESS'D is the man who hath not walk'd

aftray

In counsel of the wicked, and ith'

of finners hath not ftood, and in the feat
Of fcorners hath not fate. But in the great
Jehovahs Law is ever his delight,

way

And in his Law he ftudies day and night.
He shall be as a tree which planted grows
By watry streams, and in his feafon knows
To yield his fruit, and his leaf shall not fall,
And what he takes in hand fhall profper all.
Not fo the wicked, but as chaff which fann'd
The wind drives, fo the wicked fhall not ftand
In judgment, or abide their tryal then,
Nor finners in th'affembly of just men.
For the Lord knows th'upright way of the juft,
And the way of bad men to ruine must.

10

PSAL. II. Done Aug. 8. 1653. Terzetti.

HY do the Gentiles tumult, and the Na

tions

[earth upstand

Muse a vain thing, the Kings of th' With power, and Princes in their Congrega

tions

Lay deep their plots together through each Land, Against the Lord and his Meffiah dear.

Let us break off, say they, by ftrength of hand Their bonds, and caft from us, no more to wear, Their twisted cords: he who in Heaven doth

dwell

Shall laugh, the Lord fhall fcoff them, then severe Speak to them in his wrath, and in his fell

And fierce ire trouble them; but I faith hee Anointed have my King (though ye rebell) On Sion my holi' hill. A firm decree

I will declare; the Lord to me hath say'd Thou art my Son I have begotten thee This day; ask of me, and the grant is made; As thy poffeffion I on thee bestow

10

Th' Heathen, and as thy conqueft to be fway'd Earths utmost bounds: them shalt thou bring full low

With Iron Scepter bruis'd, and them disperse
Like to a potters vessel shiver'd fo.

And now be wife at length ye Kings averse
Be taught ye Judges of the earth; with fear
Jehovah serve, and let your joy converse

21

With trembling; kifs the Son least he
In anger and ye perish in the way

appear

If once his wrath take fire like fuel fere. Happy all those who have in him their stay.

PSAL. III. Aug. 9. 1653.

When he fled from Abfalom.

ORD how many are my foes
How many those

That in arms against me rise

Many are they

That of my life distrustfully thus fay,
No help for him in God there lies.
But thou Lord art my shield my glory,
Thee through my story

Th' exalter of my head I count

Aloud I cry'd

Unto Jehovah, he full foon reply'd
And heard me from his holy mount.
I lay and slept, I wak'd again,
For my sustain

Was the Lord. Of many millions
The populous rout

I fear not though incamping round about
They pitch against me their Pavillions.
Rife Lord, fave me my God for thou
Haft smote ere now

On the cheek-bone all my foes,

Of men abhor'd

10

20

Haft broke the teeth. This help was from the

Thy bleffing on thy people flows.

[Lord;

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