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 The lily' and rose, that neither sow'd nor spun. What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice, Of Attic taste, with wine, whence we may rise 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 interpose them oft, is not unwise.
CYRIAC, whose grandsire, 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 so often wrench;
To day deep thoughts resolve with me to drench In mirth, that after no repenting draws;
Let Euclid rest and Archimedes pause,
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 Heav'n 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.
CYRIAC, this three years day these eyes, though clear, To outward view, of blemish or of spot,
Bereft of light their seeing have forgot, Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear Of sun, or moon, or star 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 still bear up and steer Right onward. What supports me, dost thou ask? The conscience, friend, to' have lost them overply'd In liberty's defence, my noble task,
Of which all Europe talks from side to side.
This thought might lead me through the world's
Content though blind, had I no better guide.
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 wash'd from spot of child-bed taint Purification in the old law did save,
And such, as yet once more I trust to have Full sight 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 sight Love, sweetness, goodness, in her person shin'd So clear, as in no face with more delight. But O as to embrace me she inclin'd,
I wak'd, she fled, and day brought back my night.
DONE INTO VERSE 1653.
BLESS'D is the man who hath not walk'd astray In counsel of the wicked, and i' th' way
Of sinners hath not stood, and in the seat Of scorners hath not sat. But in the great Jehovah's law is ever his delight, And in his law he studies day and night. He shall be as a tree which planted grows By watry streams, and in his season knows To yield his fruit, and his leaf shall not fall, And what he takes in hand shall prosper all. Not so the wicked, but as chaff which fann'd The wind drives, so the wicked shall not stand In judgment, or abide their trial then,
Nor sinners in th' assembly of just men.
For the Lord knows th' upright way of the just,
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