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XVIII.

On the late maffacre in Piemont.

Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughter'd faints, whose bones Lie fcatter'd on the Alpine mountains cold;

Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our fathers worshipt stocks and stones, Forget not in thy book record their groans

:

Who were thy fheep, 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 confider how my light is spent

Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide, Lodg'd with me ufelefs, though my foul more bent To ferve therewith my Maker, and prefent My true account, left he returning chide; Doth God exact day-labor, light deny'd? I fondly afk: But patience to prevent

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That

That murmur, foon replies, God doth not need
Either man's work or his own gifts; who best
Bear his mild yoke, they ferve him beft: his ftate
Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed,

And poft o'er land and ocean without reft;
They also serve who only stand and wait.

XX.

To Mr. LAWRENCE'.

Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous fon,
Now that the fields are dank, and ways are mire,
Where fhall we fometimes meet, and by the fire
Help waste a fullen day, what may be won
From the hard feafon gaining? time will run
On smoother, till Favonius re-infpire

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 tafte, with wine, whence we may rife
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 interpofe them oft, is not unwife.

IO

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XXI.

To CYRIAC SKINNER

Cyriac, whose grandfire on the royal bench
Of British Themis, with no mean applause
Pronounc'd and in his volumes taught our laws,
Which others at their bar fo often wrench;
To-day deep thoughts refolve with me to drench
In mirth, that after no repenting draws;
Let Euclid reft and Archimedes paufe,

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And what the Swede intends, and what the French. To measure life learn thou betimes, and know Toward folid good what leads the nearest way; For other things mild Heav'n a time ordains, And difapproves that care, though wife in show: That with fuperfluous burden loads the day, And, when God fends a chearful hour, refrains.

XXII.

To the fame.

Cyriac, this three years day these eyes, though clear,
To outward view, of blemish or of spot,
Bereft of light, their feeing have forgot,
Nor to their idle orbs doth fight appear

* Son of William Skinner, Efq; and grandfon of Sir Vincent Skinner; and his mother was Bridget, one of the daughters of the famous Sir Edward Coke Lord Chief Justice of the King's Bench.

Of

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Of fun, or moon, or ftar, 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 ftill bear up and steer
Right onward. What fupports me, dost thou ask?
The conscience, Friend, to' have loft them overply'd
In liberty's defence, my noble task,

Of which all Europe talks from side to fide.

This thought might lead me through the world's vain mafk

Content though blind, had I no better guide.

XXIII.

On his deceased WIFE *.

Methought I faw my late espoused faint

Brought to me like Alceftis 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 5 Purification in the old Law did fave,

And fuch, as yet once more I trust to have
Full fight 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 fight
Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shin'd

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* This was his fecond wife, Catharine the daughter of Captain Woodcock of Hackney, who lived with him not above a year after their marriage, and died in childbed of a daughter.

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So clear, as in no face with more delight.

But O as to embrace me she inclin'd,

I wak'd, fhe fled, and day brought back my night.

XXIV.

On occafion of the PLAGUE in LONDON.

Found on a glafs window at Chalfont, in Buckinghamfhire, where Milton refided during the continuance of that calamity.

[From Birch's Life.]

Fair mirror of foul times; whose fragile sheen Shall, as it blazeth, break; while Providence (Aye watching o'er his faints with eye unseen)

Spreads the red rod of angry peftilence,

To fweep the wicked and their counsels hence; Yea, all to break the pride of luftful kings,

Who heaven's lore reject for brutish sense; As erft he fcourg'd Jeffides' fin of

yore,

For the fair Hittite, when, on feraph's wings, He fent him war, or plague, or famine fore.

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PSALM S.

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