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Da quel lato si spinge ove mi duole, Che forse amanti nelle lor parole Chiaman sospir; io non so che și sia: Parte rinchiusa, e turbida si cela 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 Finche mia Alba rivien colma di rose.
GIOVANE piano, e semplicetto amante
De pensieri leggiadro, accorto, e buono; Quando rugge il gran mondo, e scocca il tuono, S'arma di se, e d'intero diamante :
Tanto del forse, e d'invidia sicuro,
Di timori, e speranze al popol use
ON HIS BEING ARRIVED TO THE AGE OF TWENTY-THREE.
How soon hath Time, the subtle thief of youth, Stolen on his wing my three-and-twentieth year! My hasting days fly on with full career,
But my late spring no bud or blossom showeth.
Perhaps my semblance might deceive the truth, That I to manhood am arrived so near;
And inward ripeness doth much less appear,
All is, if I have grace to use it so,
WHEN THE ASSAULT WAS INTENDED TO THE CITY.
CAPTAIN, or colonel, or knight in arms,
Whose chance on these defenceless doors may seize,
If deed of honour did thee ever please, Guard them, and him within protect from harms. He can requite thee; for he knows the charms That call fame on such gentle acts as these, And he can spread thy name o'er lands and
Whatever clime the sun's bright circle warms.
Lift not thy spear against the Muses' bower: The great Emathian conqueror bid spare
The house of Pindarus, when temple and tower Went to the ground: and the repeated air Of sad Electra's poet had the power
To save the Athenian walls from ruin bare.
TO THE LADY MARGARET LEY.
DAUGHTER to that good earl, once president
Kill'd with report that old man eloquent.
Madam, methinks I see him living yet;
So well your words his noble virtues praise, That all both judge you to relate them true,
And to possess them, honour'd Margaret.
ON THE DETRACTION WHICH FOLLOWED UPON MY WRITING
A BOOK was writ of late, called Tetrachordon,
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.
TO A VIRTUOUS YOUNG LADY.
LADY, that in the prime of earliest youth
Chosen thou hast; and they that overween,
Thy care is fix'd, and zealously attends
To fill thy odorous lamp with deeds of light, And hope that reaps not shame. Therefore be sure Thou, when the bridegroom with his feastful friends
Passes to bliss at the mid-hour of night, Hast gain'd thy entrance, virgin wise and pure.
TO MR. H. LAWES, ON THE PUBLISHING HIS AIRS.
HARRY, whose tuneful and well-measured song
ON THE RELIGIOUS MEMORY OF MRS. CATHERINE THOMSON, DECEASED, DECEMBER 16, 1646.
WHEN faith and love, which parted from thee never, Had ripen'd thy just soul to dwell with God, Meekly thou didst resign this earthly load
Of death, call'd life; which us from life doth sever.