And chid her barking waves into attention, SONNETS. ON HIS BLINDNESS When I consider how my light is spent Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, That murmur, soon replies, 'God doth not need ON HIS DECEASED WIFE. 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 washed from spot of childbed taint Purification in the old law did save; And such as yet once more I trust to have Full sight of her in Heaven without restraint, Came vested all in white, pure as her mind: Her face was veiled, yet to my fancied sight, Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shined So clear, as in her face with more delight; But O, as to embrace me she inclined, I waked, she fled, and day brought back my night. ON THE MASSACRE IN PIEDMONT Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughtered saints, whose bones To heaven. Their martyred blood and ashes sow TO MR. LAWRENCE. Lawrence, of virtuous father, virtuous son, 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 He who of these delights can judge, and spare TO CYRIAC SKINNER. Cyriac, whose grandsire, on the royal bench 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 when superfluous burden loads the day, And, when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains. TO THE SAME. year, Cyriac, this three-years-day, these eyes, though clear, Of which all Europe rings from side to side. This thought might lead me thro' the world's vain mask Content, though blind, had I no better guide. 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 th' Athenian walls from ruin bare. DRYDEN. VENI CREATOR CREATOR Spirit by whose aid Come pour thy joys on human kind; From sin and sorrow set us free, And make thy temples worthy thee. O, source of uncreated light, Plenteous of grace, descend from high, Rich in thy sevenfold energy! Thou strength of his Almighty hand, Whose power does heaven and earth command. Proceeding Spirit, our defence, Who dost the gift of tongues dispense And crownst thy gift with eloquence' |