University of Virginia Library

TO Oliver Cromwell.

Cromwell our Chief of Men, that through a Croud,
Not of War only, but distractions rude;
Guided by Faith, and Matchless Fortitude:
To Peace and Truth, thy Glorious way hast Plough'd,
And Fought God's Battels, and his Work pursu'd,
While Darwent Streams, with Blood of Scots imbru'd;
And Dunbarfield resound thy Praises loud,
And Worcester's Laureat Wreath; yet much remains
To Conquer still; Peace hath her Victories
No less than those of War; new Foes arise
Threatning to bind our Souls in secular Chains,
Help us to save Free Conscience from the paw
Of Hireling Wolves, whose Gospel is their Maw.

To my Lord Fairfax.

Fairfax , whose Name in Arms through Europe rings,
And fills all Mouths with Envy or with Praise,
And all her Jealous Monarchs with Amaze.
And Rumours loud which daunt remotest Kings,
Thy firm unshaken Valour ever brings
Victory home, while new Rebellions raise
Their Hydra heads, and the false North displays
Her broken League to Imp her Serpent Wings:
O yet! a Nobler task awaits thy Hand,
For what can War, but Acts of War still breed,
Till injur'd Truth from Violence be freed;
And publick Faith be rescu'd from the Brand
Of publick Fraud; in vain doth Valour bleed,
While Avarice and Rapine shares the Land.

To Sir HENRY VANE.

Vane , Young in years, but in Sage Councels old,
Then whom a better Senator ne're held
The Helm of Rome, when Gowns, not Arms, repell'd
The fierce Epirote, and the African bold,
Whether to settle Peace, or to unfold
The Drift of hollow States, hard to be Spell'd;
Then to advise how War may best be upheld,
Mann'd by her Two main Nerves, Iron and Gold,
In all her Equipage: Besides, to know
Both Spiritual and Civil, what each means,
What serves each, thou hast learn'd, which few have done.
The bounds of either Sword to thee we owe;
Therefore on thy Right hand Religion leans,
And reckons thee in chief her Eldest Son.

To Mr. CYRIAC SKINNER Upon his Blindness.

Cyriac this Three years day, these Eyes though clear
To 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.