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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

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Hast rear'd God's trophies, and his work pursued, While Darwen stream, with blood of Scots imbued, And Dunbar field resounds thy praises loud, And Worcester's laureat wreath. Yet much remains To conquer still; Peace hath her victories 10 No less renown'd than War; new foes arise Threat'ning to bind our souls with secular chains : Help us to save free conscience from the paw Of hireling wolves, whose gospel is their maw.

XVII.

TO SIR HENRY VANE, THE YOUNGER.

VANE, young in years, but in sage counsel old,

Than whom a better senator ne'er held

The helm of Rome, when gowns not arms repell'd
The fierce Epirot and the African bold,
Whether to settle peace, or to unfold

The drift of hollow states hard to be spell'd,
Then to advise how War may, best upheld,

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Move by her two main nerves, iron and gold,
In all her equipage: besides to know
Both spiritual pow'r and civil, what each means,
What severs each, thou' hast learn'd, which few

have done:

The bounds of either sword to thee we owe: Therefore on thy firm hand Religion leans

In peace, and reckons thee her eldest son.

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XVIII.

ON THE LATE MASSACRE IN PIEMONT.

AVENGE, O Lord, thy slaughter'd saints, whose bones

Lie scatter'd on the Alpine mountains cold; Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones, Forget not; in thy book record their groans

Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient fold Slain by the bloody Piemontese that roll'd Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans The vales redoubled to the hills, and they

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To Heav'n. Their martyr'd blood and ashes sow 10
O'er all th' Italian fields, where still doth sway
The triple Tyrant; that from these may grow
A hundred fold, who having learn'd thy way
Early may fly the Babylonian woe.

XIX.

ON HIS BLINDNESS.

WHEN I consider how my light is spent

Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide, Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve there with my Maker, and present

My true account, lest he returning chide;
Doth God exact day-labour, light deny'd?'

I fondly ask: But Patience, to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts; who best

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Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best: his state Is kingly thousands at his bidding speed, And post o'er land and ocean without rest;

They also serve who only stand and wait.'

The massacre in Piemont formed a part of the feartul perseentinas which the Vaudois, or Protestants of that country, suf fered from the Church of Rome. An abstract of this appalling portion of modern church history may be found in Dr. M'Cries admirable work on the Reformation in Italy, and in Mr. Gillie's Journey to the valleys of the Vaudois.

XX.

TO MR. LAWRENCE.

LAWRENCE, of virtuous father virtuous son,

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Now that the fields are dank, and ways are mire, Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire Help waste a sullen day, what may be won From the hard season gaining? time will run On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire The lily' and rose, that neither sow'd nor spun. What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice Of Attic taste, with wine, whence we may rise To hear the lute well touch'd, or artful voice Warble immortal notes and Tuscan air? He who of those delights can judge, and spare To interpose them oft, is not unwise.

XXI.

TO CYRIAC SKINNER.t

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CYRIAC, whose grandsire on the royal bench
Of British Themis, with no mean applause
Pronounced, and in his volumes taught, our lawɛ,
Which others at their bar so often wrench;
To-day deep thoughts resolve with me to drench

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In mirth, that after no repenting draws; Let Euclid rest and Archimedes pause, 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; 10

For other things mild Heav'n 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.

Mr. Lawrence was son of the president of
Cromwell's council.

+ Cyriac Skinner was a pupil of Milton's

XXII.

TO THE SAME.

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CYRIAC, this three years' day these eyes, tho' clear,
To outward view, of blemish or of spot,
Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot,
Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear
Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year,
Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not
Against Heav'n's hand or will, nor bate a jot
Of heart or hope; but still bear up and steer
Right onward. What supports me? dost thou ask:
The conscience, Friend, to' have lost them overply'd
In Liberty's defence, my noble task,

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Of which all Europe rings from side to side.
This thought might lead me thro' the world's vain
Content though blind, had I no better guide. 'mask

XXIII.

ON HIS DECEASED WIFE.

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METHOUGHT I saw my late-espoused saint
Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave,
Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband gave,
Rescued from death by force, though pale and faint.
Mine, as whom wash'd from spot of child-bed taint
Purification in the old law did save,
And such, as yet once more I trust to have
Full sight of her in Heav'n without restraint,
Came vested all in white, pure as her mind :
Her face was veil'd, yet to my fancied sight
Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shined
So clear, as in no face with more delight.
But O, as to embrace me she inclined,

I waked, she fled, and day brought back my night.

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On his deceased wife, his second wife, who died about a year after their marriage.-Alcestis was king of Thessaly, and being on the point of death, was restored to life by his wife's voluntarily offering herself to Apollo in his stead. Hercules afterward succeeded in rescuing her from the shades.

PSALM I.

(Done into verse, 1653.)

BLESS'D is the man who hath not walk'd astray
In counsel of the wicked, and i' th' way

Of sinners hath not stood, and in the seat
Of scorners hath not sat.
But in the great
Jehovah's law is ever his delight,
And in his law he studies day and night.
He shall be as a tree which planted grows
By watery streams, and in his season knows
To yield his fruit, and his leaf shall not fall,
And what he takes in hand shall prosper all.
Not so the wicked, but as chaff which fann'd
The wind drives, so the wicked shall not stand
In judgment, or abide their trial then,
Nor sinners in th' assembly of just men.

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For the Lord knows th' upright way of the just, 15 And the way of bad men to ruin must.

PSALM II.

(Done Aug. 8, 1653.)
Terzette.

WHY do the Gentiles tumult, and the nations
Muse a vain thing, the kings of th' earth upstand
With power, and princes in their congregations
Lay deep their plots together through each land
Against the Lord and his Messiah dear?

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Let us break off, say they, by strength of hand Their bonds, and cast from us, no more to wear Their twisted cords: he who in Heav'n doth dwell Shall laugh, the Lord shall scoff them, then severe Speak to them in his wrath, and in his fell And fierce ire trouble them; But I, saith he, Anointed have my King (though ye rebel)

On Sion my holy hill. A firm decree

I will declare; the Lord to me hath said,

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