Lift not thy fpear 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 fad Electra's poet had the power

To fave th' Athenian walls from ruin bare.

IX.

To a virtuous young Lady.

10

Lady, that in the prime of earliest youth
Wifely hath fhunn'd the broad way and the green,
And with thofe few art eminently feen,
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 thy odorous lamp with deeds of light,
And hope that reaps not fhame. Therefore be fure
Thou, when the bridegroom with his feaftful friends
Paffes to blifs at the mid hour of night,
Haft gain'd thy entrance, Virgin wife and pure.

X.

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.

And

And left them both, more in himself content,

Till fad the breaking of that Parliament

Broke him, as that dishoneft victory

At Cheronea, fatal to liberty,

5

Kill'd with report that old man eloquent.
Though later born than to have known the days
Wherein your father florish'd, yet by you,
Madam, methinks I fee him living yet ;
So well your words his noble virtues praise,
That all both judge you to relate them true,
And to poflefs them, honor'd Margaret.

XI.

10

On the detraction which followed upon my writing

certain treatifes.

A book was writ of late call'd Tetrachordon,
And woven clofe, both matter, form and stile ;
The fubject new; it walk'd the town a while,
Numbering good intellects; now feldom por'd on.
Cries the ftall-reader, Blefs us! what a word on 5
A title-page is this! and fome in file

Stand fpelling falfe, while one might walk to MileEnd Green. Why is it harder, Sies, than Gordon, Colkitto, or Macdonnel, or Galafp ?

Thofe rugged names to our like mouths grow fleek, That would have made Quintilia ftare and grafp. Thy age, like ours, O Soul of Sir John Cheek,

Hated not learning worfe than toad or atp,
When thou taught it Cambridge, and king Edward

Greek.

XII. On

XII.

On the fame.

I did but prompt the age to quit their clogs
By the known rules of ancient liberty,
When ftrait a barbarous noife environs me

Of owls and cuckoos, affes, apes, and dogs:
As when thofe hinds that were transform'd to frogs 5
Rail'd at Latona's twin-born progeny,

Which after held the fun and moon in fee.

But this is got by cafting pearl to hogs;

That bawl for freedom in their fenfelefs mood,

And still revolt when truth would fet them free. 1.
Licence they mean when they cry Liberty;

For who loves that, must first be wife and good;
But from that mark how far they rove we fee
For all this wafte of wealth, and lofs of blood.

XIII.

To Mr. H. LAWES on his Airs.

Harry, whofe tuneful and well-measur'd fong
First taught our English mufic 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 fmooth air could'ft humour beft our tongue.

Thou

Thou honor'st verse, and verse must lend her wing
To honor thee, the priest of Phoebus' quire,
That tun'ft their happiest lines in hymn, or ftory.
Dante shall give fame leave to set thee higher
Than his Cafella, whom he woo'd to fing,
Me tin the milder fhades of purgatory.

XIV.

On the religious memory of

ΤΟ

Mrs. CATHARINE THOMSON, my chriftian friend, Deceas'd 16 Decem. 1646.

When faith and love, which parted from thee never, Had ripen'd thy just foul 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

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 reft And drink thy fill of pure immortal streams.

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VOL. III,

N

XV. To

XV.

To the Lord General FAIRFAX.

Fairfax, whofe name in arms through Europe rings,
Filling each mouth with envy or with praise,
And all her jealous monarchs with amaze
And rumors loud, that daunt remotest kings,

Thy firm unfhaken virtue ever brings

Victory home, though new rebellions raise

Their Hydra heads, and the false North displays
Her broken league to imp their ferpent wings.

O yet a nobler task awaits thy hand,

(For what can war, but endless war still breed?) 10 Till truth and right from violence be freed,

And public faith clear'd from the fhameful brand
Of public fraud. In vain doth valor bleed,
While avarice and rapin share the land.

་

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 haft plough'd, And on the neck of crowned fortune proud

Haft rear'd God's trophies, and his work pursued, While Darwen stream with blood of Scots imbrued, And Dunbar field refounds thy praises loud,

5

And