The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower To save the Athenian walls from ruin bare IX. TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY. LADY, that in the prime of earliest youth To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light, Hath gain'd thy entrance, virgin wise and pure. X. TO THE LADY MARGARET LEY. DAUGHTER to that good earl, once president Till sad the breaking of that parliament At Chæronea, fatal to liberty, Kill'd with report that old man eloquent. Though later born than to have known the days Wherein your father flourish'd, yet by you, Madam, methinks I see him living yet; XI. ON THE DETRACTION WHICH FOLLOWED UPON MY 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 Galasp? Those rugged names to our like mouths grow sleek, 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, [Greek. When thou taught'st Cambridge and king Edward XII. ON THE SAME. I DID but prompt the age to quit their clogs When straight a barbarous noise environs me Which after held the sun and moon in fee. But from that mark how far they rove we see XIII. TO MR. H. LAWES, ON HIS AIRS. HARRY, whose tuneful and well-measured song That with smooth air couldst humor best our tongue. XIV. ON THE RELIGIOUS MEMORY OF MRS. CATHARINE THOMSON, MY CHRISTIAN FRIEND, Deceased 16th Dec. 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 endeavor 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 forever. Love led them on, and faith, who knew them best Thy handmaids, 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 XV. TO THE LORD GENERAL FAIRFAX. FAIRFAX, whose name in arms through Europe rings, Victory home, though new rebellions raise (For what can war but endless war still breed?) 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, 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 laureate wreath. Yet much remains To conquer still; peace hath her victories In niirth, that after no repenting draws; And what the Swede intends, and what the French. To measure life learn thou betimes, and know Toward solid good what leads the nearest way; For other things mild Heaven a time ordains, And disapproves that care, though wise in show, That with superfluous burden loads the day, And when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains. XXII. TO THE SAME. CYRIAC, this three years' day these eyes, though clear Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of which all Europe talks from side to side. [mask This thought might lead me through the word's vain Content, though blind, had I no better guide. XXIII. ON HIS DECEASED WIFE. METHOUGHT I saw my late espoused saint And such, as yet once more I trust to have |