May with their wholesome and preventive shears XIII. TO MR. H. LAWES ON HIS AIRS HARRY, whose tuneful and well-measured song That with smooth air couldst humour best our tongue. XIV. ON THE RELIGIOUS MEMORY OF MRS. CATHERINE THOMSON, MY CHRISTIAN FRIEND, WHEN Faith and Love, which parted from thee never, Of death, called life, which us from life doth sever. Love led them on; and Faith, who knew them best Before the Judge; who thenceforth bid thee rest, pure XV. ON THE LORD GENERAL FAIRFAX, AT THE SIEGE OF COLCHESTER FAIRFAX, whose name in arms through Europe rings, Victory home, though new rebellions raise O yet a nobler task awaits thy hand (For what can war but endless war still breed?) Till truth and right from violence be freed, And public faith cleared from the shameful brand Of public fraud. In vain doth Valour bleed, While Avarice and Rapine share the land. XVI. TO THE LORD GENERAL CROMWELL, MAY 1652 ON THE PROPOSALS OF CERTAIN MINISTERS AT THE COMMITTEE CROMWELL, Our chief of men, who through a cloud Guided by faith and matchless fortitude, To peace and truth thy glorious way hast ploughed, And on the neck of crowned Fortune proud Hast reared 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 No less renowned than War: new foes arise, Threatening 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, The helm of Rome, when gowns, not arms, repelled Whether to settle peace, or to unfold The drift of hollow states hard to be spelled; In all her equipage; besides, to know Both spiritual power and civil, what each means, What severs each, thou hast learned, which few have done. The bounds of either sword to thee we owe : Therefore on thy firm hand Religion leans XVIII. ON THE LATE MASSACRE IN PIEDMONT AVENGE, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones Forget not in thy book record their groans To heaven. Their martyred blood and ashes sow 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 therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest He returning chide, "Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?" 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 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; XX. [TO MR. LAWRENCE] LAWRENCE, of virtuous father virtuous son, Now that the fields are dank, and ways are mire, From the hard season gaining? Time will run The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire Of Attic taste, with wine, whence we may rise He who of those delights can judge, and spare XXI. [TO CYRIACK SKINNER CYRIACK, whose grandsire on the royal bench Let Euclid rest, and Archimedes pause, And what the Swede intend, 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] CYRIACK, this three years' day these eyes, though clear, |