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Filling each mouth with envy or with praise,
And rumors loud, that daunt remotest kings, Thy firm unshaken virtue ever brings
5 Victory home, though new rebellions raise Their Hydra heads, and the false North displays Her broken league to imp their serpent wings. yet a nobler task awaits thy hand, (For what can war, but endless war still breed ?)
Till truth and right from violence be freed, II And public faith clear’d from the shameful brand
Of public fraud. In vain doth valor bleed, While avarice and rapin share the land.
Not of war only, but detractions rude,
Topeace and truth thy glorious way haft plough’d, And on the neck of crowned fortune proud 5
Haft rear’dGod's trophies, and his work pursued, WhileDarwen stream with blood of Scotsimbrued,
And Dunbar field resounds thy praises loud, And Worcester's laureat wreath. Yet much remains
M m 2
conquer still; peace hath her victories
paw Of hireling wolves, whose gospel is their maw.
Than whom a better senator ne'er held
The fierce Epirot and the African bold,
5 The drift of hollow states hard to be spellid, Than to advise how war may best upheld
Move by her two main nerves, iron and gold,
Lie scatter'd on the Alpine mountains cold;
When all our fathers worshipt stocks and stones, Forget not: in thy book record their groans · 5
Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient fold
Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans
O’er all th' Italian fields, where still doth sway The triple Tyrant; that from these may grow
A hundred fold, who having learn’d thy way
On his BLINDNESS. When I consider how my light is spent
Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide,
Lodg’d with me ufeless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present
My true account, left he returning chide;
I fondly ask : But patience to prevent
Either man's work or his own gifts; who best 10
Bear his mild yoke, they serve him beft: his state Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed,
And post o'er land and ocean without rest;
Now that the fields are dank, and ways are mire,
Help waste a sullen day, what may be won From the hard season gaining? time will run 5
On smoother, till Favonius re-inspire
The lilly’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 10
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
Of British Themis, with no mean applause
Which others at their bar so often wrench;
In mirth, that after no repenting draws;
And what the Swede intends, and what the French. To measure life learn thou betimes, and know 9
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 chearful hour, refrains.
To the same.
To outward view, of blemish or of spot,
Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear
5 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 over
In liberty's defence, my noble task, ply'd Of which all Europe talks from side to side. (mask
This thought might lead me thro’ the world's vain Content though blind, had I no better guide.
On his deceased WIFE. Methought I saw my late espoused saint
Brought to me like Alcestis from the grave, Whom Jove’s great son to her glad husbånd gave, Rescued from death by force, tho' pale and faint.