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
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.

TO CYRIAC SKINNER.†

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

This Mr. Lawrence was the Son of the President of Cromell's council.

+ Cyriac Skinner was the son of William Skinner, Esqr., and grandson of Sir Vincent Skinner, and his mother was daughter of the famous Lord Chief Justice Coke. Mr. Wood relates that he was one of Harrington's political club, and sometimes heid the chair; and further adds, that he was a merchant's son of London, an ingenious young gentleman, and scholar to John Milton.

Te v'rd solid good what leads the nearest way; For other things mild Heaven 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.

TO THE SAME.

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 Heaven'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 over plied
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

vain mask

Content, though blind, had I no better guide.

ON HIS DECEASED WIFE.*

METHOUGHT I saw my late espous'd 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

This was his second wife, Catharine, the daughter of Captain Woodcock of Hackney, who lived with him not above a year after heir marriage, and died in child bed of a daughter.

Mine, as whom wash'd from spot of child-bed taim, Purification in th' 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 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 r.e she inclin'd, I wak'd; she fled, and day brought back

PSALMS.

PSALMI.

[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 wat'ry 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 the upright way of the just,
And the way of bad men to ruin must.

PSALM II.

[Done August 8, 1653.]

Terzette.

WHY do the Gentiles tumult, and the nations
Muse a vain thing, the kings of th' earth upstand
With power, and princes in their congregations

Lay deep their plots together through cach land
Against the Lord and his Messiah dear?

Let us break off, say they, by strength of hand Their bonds, and cast from us, no more to wear, Their twisted cords He, who in heaven doth dwell,

Shall laugh; the Lord shall scoff them: then severe Speak to them in his wrath, and in his fell

And fierce ire trouble them; but I, saith he, Anointed have my King (though ye rebel) On Sion my holy hill. A firm decree

I will declare; the Lord to me hath said, Thou art my son, I have begotten thee This day; ask of me, and the grant is made; As thy possession I on thee bestow

The Heathen; and as thy conquest to be sway'd, Earth's utmost bounds: them shalt thou bring ful low

With iron sceptre bruis'd, and them disperse
Like to a potter's vessel shiver'd so.
And now be wise at length, ye kings averse,
Be taught, ye judges of the earth; with fear
Jehovah serve, and let your joy converse
With trembling; kiss the Son lest he appear
In anger, and ye perish in the way,

If once his wrath take fire, like fuel sére.
Happy all those who have in him their stay.

PSALM III.

[August 9, 1653.]

When he fled from Absalom,

LORD, how many are my foes!
How many those,

That in arms against me rise!
Many are they,