Altri lidi t'aspettan, et altre onde Spuntati ad hor, ad hor a la tua chioma Canzon dirotti, e tu per me rispondi IV. DIODATI, e te'l dirò con maraviglia, Gia caddi, ov'huom, dabben talhor s'impiglia. E degli occhi suoi auventa si gran fuoco V. PER certo i bei vostr'occhi, Donna mia Per l'arene di Libia chi s'invia, P Da quel lato si spinge ove mi duole, VI. GIOVANE piano, e semplicetto amante De pensieri leggiadro, accorto, e buono; Quando rugge il gran mondo, e scocca il tuono, S'arma di se, e d'intero diamante : Tanto del forse, e d' invidia sicuro, Sol troverete in tal parte men duro, VII. 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 showeth. Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth, That I to manhood am arrived so near; And inward ripeness doth much less appear, All is, if I have grace to use it so, VIII. 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 circle 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. IX. TO THE LADY MARGARET LEY. DAUGHTER to that good earl, once president 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; So well your words his noble virtues praise, That all both judge you to relate them true, And to possess them, honour'd Margaret. X. ON THE DETRACTION WHICH FOLLOWED UPON MY WRITING A BOOK was writ of late, called 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, When thou taught'st Cambridge and King Edward Greek. XI. ON THE SAME. I DID but prompt the age to quit their clogs Which after held the sun and moon in fee. 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. XII. TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY. LADY, that in the prime of earliest youth No |