 | Dedicatory poems (1694) |  |
xlviii
To Mr. CYRIAC SKINNER Upon his Blindness.
Cyriac this Three years day, these Eyes though clearTo outward view of blemish or of Spot,
Bereft of Sight, their Seeing have forgot;
Nor to their idle Orbs doth day appear,
Or Sun, or Moon, or Star, throughout the Year;
Or Man, or Woman; yet I argue not
Against Heaven's Hand, or Will, nor bate one 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 ply'd
In Liberties Defence, my noble task;
Of which all Europe rings from side to side.
This thought might lead me through this World's vain mask
Content, though blind, had I no other Guide.
| Dedicatory poems (1694) | |