word for word without rhime, according to the La-Taught ye by mere A. S. and Rotherford? WHAT flender youth bedew'd with liquid odours In wreaths thy golden hair, Who now enjoys thee, credulous, all gold, Hopes thee, of flattering gales Men whofe life, learning, faith and pure intent, Your plots and packing worfe than those of That fo the Parliament May with their wholefome and preventive fhcars And fuccour our just fears, When they fhall read this clearly in your charge, SONNET S. 0 1. To the Nightingale. NIGHTINGALE, that on yon bloomy spray Warbleft at eve, when all the woods are still, Thou with fresh hope the lover's heart does fill, While the jolly Hours lead on propitious May. Thy liquid notes that close the eye of day, First heard before the fhallow cuccco's bill, Portend fuccefs in love; O if Jove's will Have link'd that amorous power to thy foft lay, Now timely fing, e'er the rude bird of hate Feretell my hopeless doom in fome grove nigh; As thou from year to year haft fung too late, For my relief, yet hadft no reason why: Whether the mufe, or love call thee his mate, Both them I ferve, and of their train am I II. DONNA leggiadra il cui bel nome honora De fui atti foavi giamai parco, E i don', che fon d'amor faette ed arco, La onde l'alta tua virtu f'infiora. Quando tu vaga parli, o lieta canti Che mover poffa duro alpeftre legno Guardi ciafcun a gli occhi, ed a gli orecchi Le'entrata, chi di te fi truova indegno; Cratia fola di fu gli vaglia, inanti Che'l difio amorofa al cuor f'invecchi. III. QUAL in colle afpro, al imbrunir di sera L'avezza giovenetta pastorella Va bagnando l'herbetta ftrana e bella Che mal fi fpande a difufata spera Fuor di fua natia alma primavera, Cofi Amor meco infù la lingua fnella Defta il fior novo di strania favella, Mentre io di te, vezzofamente altera, Canto, dal mio buon popol non intefo E'l bel Tamigi cangio col bel Arro. Amor lo volíe, ed io a l'altrui peso Seppi ch' Amor cofa mai volle indarno. Deh! fofs' il mio cuor lento e'l duro feno A chi pianta dal ciel si buon terreno. Canzone. RIDONSI donne e giovani amorofii M' accoftandofi attorno, e perche scrivi, Perche tu fcrivi in lingua ignota e strana Verfeggiando d' amor, e come t' ofi? Dinne, fe la tua fpeme fia mai vana, E de penfieri lo miglior t' arrivi; Cofi mi van burlando, altri rivi Altri lidi t'afpettan, et altre onde Nelle cui verdi fponde Spuntati ad hor, ad hor a la tua chioma L'immortal guiderdond d' eterne frondi Perche alle spalle tue foverchia foma? Canzon dirotti, e tu per me rispondi Dice mia Donna, e'l fuo dir, é il mio cuore uefta e lingua di cui fi vanta Amore. IV. DIODATI, e te'l diro con maraviglia, M' abbaglian sì, ma fotto nova idea Quel fereno fulgor d' amabil nero, Parole adorne di lingua piu d' una, E'l cantar che di mezzo l'hemifpero Traviar ben puo la faticofa Luna, E degli occhi fuoi auventa fi gran Che l'incerar gli orecchi mi fia poco. V. fuoco PER certo i bei voftr' occhi Donna mia Da quel lato fi fpinge ove mi duole, GIOVANE piano, e femplicetto amante Poi che fuggir me fteffo in dubbio fono De penfieri leggiadro, accorto, e buono ; Tanto del forfe e d' invidia ficuro, Di timori, e fperanze al popol use E di cetta fonora, e delle muse: Sol troverete in tal parte men duro IX. To a virtuous young Lady. LADY that in the prime of earliest youth green, And with thofe few art eminently feen, Choien thou haft; and they that overween, To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light, Paffes to blifs at the mid hour of night, Haft gain'd thy entrance, virgin wife and pure. X. To the Lady Margaret Ley. VII. On bis being arriv'd at the age of twenty-Till fad the breaking of that Parliament three. How foon hath Time, the fubtle thief of youth, My hafting days fly on with full career, And inward ripeness doth much less appear, To that fame lot, however mean or high, Broke him, as that difhoneft victory So well your word his noble virtues praife, XI. On the detraction which follored upon my writing certain treatifes. Toward which Time leads me, and the will ofA BOOK was writ of late call'd Tetrachordon, And woven close, both matter, form, and ftile; Stand fpeiling falle, while one might walk to End Green. Why is it harder, Sirs, than Gordon, Thofe rugged names to our like mouths grow That would have made Quintilian stare and gafp. Thy age, like ours, O Soul of Sir John Cheek, Hated not learning worse than toad or afp, When thon taught it at Cambridge, and King Edward Greek. XII. On the fame. I DID but prompt the age to quit their clogs of owls and cuccoos, affes, apes, and dogs: As when thofe hinds that were transform'd to frogs Rail'd at Latona's twin-born progeny, Which after held the fun and moon in fee. But this is got by cafting pearls to hogs, That bawl for freedom in their senseless mood, And ftill revolt when Truth would fet them free; Licence they mean when they cry Liberty; For who loves that, muit first be wife and good; But from that mark how far they rove we fee, XIII. To Mr. H. Larves, on bis Airs. HARRY, whofe tuneful and well-meafur'd fong Firft taught our English mufie how to span Words with just note and accent, not to scan With Midas' ears, committing fhort and long; Thy worth and skill exempts thee from the throng, With praise enough for Envy to look wan; To after age thou shalt be writ the man That with fmooth air could'st humour beft our tongue. Thou honour'ft verfe, and verst must lend her wing To honour thee, the priest of Phœbus' quire, That tun'ft their happieft lines in hymn or ftory. Dante fhall give Fame leave to fet thee higher Than his Cafella, whom he woo'd to fing Met in the milder fhades of Purgatory. never, Had ripen'd thy just foul to dwell with God, Meekly theu didit refign this earthly load Of death, call'd life; which us from life doth fever. Thy works and alms, and all thy good endeavour, Stay'd not behind, nor in the grave were trod, But as Faith pointed with her golden rod, Follow'd thee up to joy and bliis for ever. Love led them on, and Faith who knew them best Thy hand-maids,clad them o'er with purple beams And azure wings, that up they flew fo dreft, And fpake the truth of thee on glorious themes Before the Judge, who thenceforth bid thee rest, Το Not of war only, but detractions rude, Guided by faith, and matchlefs fortitude, peace and truth thy glorious way haft plough'd, And on the neck of crowned Fortune proud Haft rear'd God's trophies, and his work purfued, While Darwen stream with blood of Scots imbrued, And Dunbar field refounds thy praises loud, And Worcester's laureat wreath. Yet much remains To conquer ftill; Peace hath her victories No lefs renown'd than war; new foes arise Threat'ning to bind our fouls with fecular chains: Help us us to fave free confcience from the paw Of hireling wolves, whofe gospel is their maw. XVII. To Sir Henry Vane the younger. VANE, young in years, but in fage counsel old, Than whom a better fenator ne'er held The helm of Rome, when gowns not arms reThe fierce Epirot and the African bold, [pell'd Whether to fettle peace, or to unfold The drift of hollow ftates hard to be spell'd Then to advise how War may best upheld Move by her two main nerves, iron and gold, In all her equipage: befides to know Both fpiritual power and civil, what each means, What fevers each, thou' haft learn'd, which few have done : The bounds of either fword to thee we owe; Therefore on thy firm hand Religion leans In peace, and reckons thee her eldest fon. XVIII. On the late Massacre in Piemont. AVENGE, O Lord, thy slaughter'd faints, whose bones Lie scatter'd on the Alpine mountains cold; Ev'n them who kept thy truth fo pure of old, When all our fathers worshipt ftocks and stones, Forget not; in thy book record their groans Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient fold Slain by the bloody Piemontese that roll'd Mother with infant down the rocks. Their Which others at their har fo often wrench; To day deep thoughts refolve with me to drench To measure life learn thou betimes, and know Tow'ard folid good what leads the nearest way; For other things mild Heav'n a time ordains And difapproves that care, though wife in fhew, That with fuperfluous burden loads the day, And when God fends a cheerful hour refrains. XXII. To the fame. CYRIAC, this three years day these eyes, tho' clear, To outward view, of blemish or of spot, Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot, Nor to their idle orbs doth fight appear 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? doft thou afk: The confcience, Friend, to' have loft them overply'd In liberty's defence, my noble task, This thought might lead me thro' the world's vain mask, Content though blind, had I no better guide, XXIII. On his deceased Wife. METHOUGHT I saw my late espoused faint Brought to me like Alceftis from the grave, Whom Jove's great fon to her glad husband gave Refcued from death by force though pale and faint. Mine, as whom wafh'd from fpot of child-bed taint, 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 vefted all in white, pure as her mind: Her face was veil'd, yet to my fancied fight Love, fweetnefs, goodness, in her person shin'd So clear, as in no face with more delight. But O, as to embrace me fhe inclin'd, wak'd, fhe fled, and day brought back my, night. |