« PreviousContinue »
E degli occhi suoi avventa sì gran fuoco
PER certo i bei vosir' occhi, Donna mia,
Esser non può che non sian lo mio sole ;
Per l' arene di Libia chi si invia,
Da quel lato si spinge ove mi duole,
Chiaman sospir ; io non so che si sia.
Scosso mi il petto, e poi n' uscendo poco
Quivi d' attorno o s' agghiaccia o s' ingiela ; Ma quanto a gli occhi giunge a trovar loco
Tutte le notti a me suol far piovose,
GIOVANE piano, e semplicetto amante,
Poichè fuggir me stesso in dubbio sono,
Farò divoto. Io certo a prove tante
Di pensieri leggiadro, accorto, e buono.
S'arma di se, e d'intero diamante,
Di timori, e speranze al popol use,
Quanto d'ingegno e d'alto valor vago,
Sol troverete in tal parte men duro
WHEN THE ASSAULT WAS INTENDED TO THE CITY.
CAPTAIN or Colonel, or Knight in Arms,
Guard them, and him within protect from harms.
That call fame on such gentle acts as these,
Whatever clime the sun's bright circle warms.
The great Emathian conqueror bid spare
The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower
Of sad Electra's poet had the power
[TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY.] LADY, that in the prime of earliest youth
Wisely hast shunned the broad wayand the green,
That labour up the hill of heavenly Truth,
Chosen thou hast; and they that overween,
No anger find in thee, but pity and ruth.
To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light,
And hope that reaps not shame. Therefore be sure Thou, when
mid hour of night,
his feastful friends
virgin wise and pure.
TO THE LADY MARGARET LEY.
DAUGHTER to that good Earl, once President
Of England's Council and her Treasury,
And left them both, more in himself content, Till the sad breaking of that Parliament
Broke him, as that dishonest victory
Killed with report that old man eloquent,
Wherein your father flourished, yet by you,
Madam, methinks I see him living yet :
That all both judge you to relate them true
ON THE DETRACTION WHICH FOLLOWED UPON MY
WRITING CERTAIN TREATISES.
A BOOK was writ of late called Tetrachordon,
And woven close, both matter, form, and style ;
Numbering good intellects; now seldom pored on. Cries the stall-reader, “Bless us ! what a word on
A title-page is this !”; and some in file
End Green. Why, is it harder, sirs, than Gordon,
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,
ON THE SAME.
I DID but prompt the age to quit their clogs
By the known rules of ancient liberty,
Of owls and cuckoos, asses, apes, and dogs ;
Railed at Latona's twin-born progeny,
But this is got by casting pearl to hogs,
And still revolt when Truth would set them free.
Licence they mean when they cry Liberty ;
But from that mark how far they rove we see,
ON THE NEW FORCERS OF CONSCIENCE UNDER THE
BECAUSE you have thrown off your Prelate Lord,
And with stiff vows renounced his Liturgy,
From them whose sin ye envied, not abhorred,
ye for this adjure the civil sword
And ride us with a Classic Hierarchy,
mere A. S, and Rutherford ?
learning, faith, a Would
Must By shallow
Taught ye by
faith, and pure intent, named
high esteem with Paul
'be vards and
But we do hope to find out all your tricks,
That so the Parliament
And succour our just fears, When they shall read this clearly in your charge : New Presbyter is but old Priest writ large
TO MR. H. LAWES, ON HIS AIRS.
First taught our English music how to span
With Midas' ears, committing short and long, Thy worth and skill exempts thee from the throng,
With praise enough for Envy to look wan;
tongue. Thou honour'st Verse, and Verse must lend her wing
To honour thee, the priest of Phoebus' quire,
That tunest their happiest lines in hymn or story Dante shall give Fame leave to set thee higher
Than his Casella, whom he wooed to sing,
ON THE RELIGIOUS MEMORY OF MRS. CATHERINE
THOMSON, MY CHRISTIAN FRIEND,
DECEASED DEC. 16, 1646.
Had ripened thy just soul to dwell with God,