The tufted crow-toe, and pale gessamine, The musk-rose, and the well-attired woodbine, And daffadillies fill their cups with tears, To strew the laureate hearse where Lycid lies. Let our frail thoughts dally with false surmise. Where the great Vision of the guarded mount Weep no more, woeful shepherds, weep no more, Sunk though he be beneath the watery floor. And yet anon repairs his drooping head, And tricks his beams, and with new-spangled ore So Lycidas sunk low, but mounted high, Through the dear might of Him that walked the waves, Where, other groves and other streams along, Now, Lycidas, the Shepherds weep no more; Thus sang the uncouth Swain to the oaks and rills, While the still Morn went out with sandals grey: He touched the tender stops of various quills, With eager thought warbling his Doric lay: And now the sun had stretched out all the hills, And now was dropt into the western bay. At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue: To-morrow to fresh woods, and pastures new. POEMS WRITTEN DURING THE CIVIL WAR AND THE PROTECTORATE WHEN THE ASSAULT WAS INTENDED C (NOVEMBER, 1642) APTAIN, or colonel, or knight in arms, Whose chance on these defenceless doors may seize, Guard them, and him within protect from harms. The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower To save the Athenian walls from ruin bare. TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY (1644) LADY! that in the prime of earliest youth Wisely hast shunned the broad way and the green, And with those few art eminently seen, That labour up the Hill of Heavenly Truth, 80 د كونك The better part with Mary and with Ruth a To fill thy odorous Lamp with deeds of light. Hast gained thy entrance, Virgin wise and pure. L TO THE LADY MARGARET LEY (1644-5) DAUGHTER to that good Earl, once President Killed with report that old man eloquent, Though later born than to have known the days ON THE DETRACTION WHICH FOLLOWED UPON MY WRITING CERTAIN TREATISES (1645-6) A BOOK was writ of late called Tetrachordon, A title-page is this!"; and some in file Stand spelling false, while one might walk to MileEnd Green. Why, is it harder, sirs, than Gordon, Colkitto, or Macdonnel, or Galasp? Those rugged names to our like mouths grow 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, When thou taught'st Cambridge and King Edward Greek. ON THE SAME I DID but prompt the age to quit their clogs When straight a barbarous noise environs me Which after held the Sun and Moon in fee. But this is got by casting pearl to hogs, That bawl for freedom in their senseless mood, And still revolt when Truth would set them free. Licence they mean when they cry Liberty; For who loves that must first be wise and good: But from that mark how far they rove we see, For all this waste of wealth and loss of blood. ON THE NEW FORCERS OF CONSCIENCE BECAUSE you have thrown off your Prelate Lord, |