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And Israel, silent, saw him rase the tower,
And how he Succoth's elders durst suppress
With thorns and briers of the wilderness;
No king might ever such a force have done,
Yet would not he be lord, nor yet his son.

Thou with the same strength, and a heart so plain,
Didst like thine olive still refuse to reign;
Though why should others all thy labour spoil,
And brambles be anointed with thine oil,
Whose climbing flame, without a timely stop,
Had quickly levell'd every cedar's top?
Therefore, first growing to thyself a law,
The ambitious shrubs thou in just time didst awe.
So have I seen at sea, when whirling winds
Hurry the bark, but more the seamen's minds,
Who with mistaken course salute the sand,
And threatening rocks misapprehend for land,-
While baleful tritons to the shipwreck guide,
And corposants1 along the tacklings slide,—
The passengers all wearied out before,
Giddy, and wishing for the fatal shore,—
Some lusty mate, who with more careful eye,
Counted the hours, and every star did spy,
The helm does from the artless steersman strain,
And doubles back unto the safer main :
What though awhile they grumble, discontent?
Saving himself, he does their loss prevent.

'Tis not a freedom that, where all command, Nor tyranny, where one does them withstand; But who of both the bounders knows to lay, Him, as their father, must the state obey.

Meteoric lights; from Spanish, "cuerpo santo."

Thou and thy house, like Noah's eight did rest,
Left by the war's flood, on the mountain's crest;
And the large vale lay subject to thy will,
Which thou but as an husbandman, wouldst till;
And only didst for others plant the vine
Of liberty, not drunken with its wine.

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So while our star that gives us light and heat,
Seem'd now a long and gloomy night to threat,
Up from the other world his flame doth dart,
And princes, shining through their windows, start;
Who their suspected counsellors refuse,

And credulous ambassadors accuse :

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Is this," saith one, "the nation that we read, Spent with both wars, under a captain dead! "Yet rig a navy, while we dress us late, "And ere we dine, rase and rebuild a state? "What oaken forests, and what golden mines! "What mints of men, what union of designs! What refuge to escape them can be found, "Whose watery leaguers all the world surround? "Needs must we all their tributaries be, "Whose navies hold the sluices of the sea! "The ocean is the fountain of command, "But that once took, we captives are on land; "And those that have the waters for their share, “Can quickly leave us neither earth nor air; "Yet if through these our fears could find a pass Through double oak, and lined with treble brass; "That one man still, although but named, alarms "More than all men, all navies, and all arms; "Him all the day, him in late nights I dread, "And still his sword seems hanging o'er my head.

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"The nation had been ours, but his one soul
"Moves the great bulk, and animates the whole,
"He secrecy with number hath inchased,

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Courage with age, maturity with haste;

"The valiant's terror, riddle of the wise,
"And still his falchion all our knots unties.
"Where did he learn those arts that cost us dear?
"Where below earth, or where above the sphere ?
"He seems a king by long succession born,
"And yet the same to be a king doth scorn.
"Abroad a king he seems, and something more,
"At home a subject on the equal floor;
"Or could I once him with our title see,
"So should I hope yet he might die as we.
"But let them write his praise that love him best,
"It grieves me sore to have thus much confest."
Pardon, great Prince, if thus their fear or spite,
More than our love and duty do thee right;
I yield, nor further will the prize contend,
So that we both alike may miss our end;
While thou thy venerable head dost raise
As far above their malice as my praise;
And, as the angel of our commonweal,
Troubling the waters, yearly mak'st them heal.

Andrew Marvell.

UNCAGED.

From "The Mistresse of Philarete."

OR I will for no man's pleasure
Change a syllable or measure:
Pedants shall not tie my strains

To their antique poets' veins.

Being born as free as these,

I will sing as I shall please.

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George Wither.

TO CYRIAC SKINNER.

(1655.)

YRIAC, this three-years-day these eyes, though
clear,

To outward view, of blemish or of spot,
Bereft of light, their seeing have forgot,
Nor to their idle orbs doth sight appear
Of sun, or moon, or star, throughout the year,
Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not

Against Heaven's hand or will, nor hate 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 overplied
In Liberty's defence, my noble task,

Of which all Europe rings from side to side.

This thought might lead me through the world's vain

mask,

Content though blind, had I no better guide.

John Milton.

ON THE LATE MASSACRE IN PIEMONT.

(1655.)

VENGE, O Lord, thy slaughter'd saints, whose

bones

Lie scatter'd on the Alpine mountains cold; Even them who kept thy truth so pure of old, When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones,

Forget not; in thy book record their groans
Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient fold
Slain by the bloody Piemontese, that roll'd
Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans
The vales redoubled to the hills, and they

To heaven. Their martyr'd blood and ashes sow
O'er all the Italian fields, where still doth sway
The triple tyrant; that from these may grow
A hundredfold, who, having learn'd thy way,
Early may fly the Babylonian woe.

John Milton.

ON THE VICTORY OBTAINED BY BLAKE,

Over the Spaniards, in the Bay of Santa Cruz, in the
Island of Teneriffe, 1657.

OW does Spain's fleet her spacious wings unfold,
Leaves the new world, and hastens for the old;
But though the wind was fair, they slowly swum,

Freighted with acted guilt, and guilt to come:
For this rich load, of which so proud they are,
Was raised by tyranny, and raised for war.
Every capacious galleon's womb was fill'd
With what the womb of wealthy kingdoms yield;
The new world's wounded entrails they had tore,
For wealth wherewith to wound the old once more,
Wealth which all other's avarice might cloy,
But yet in them caused as much fear as joy.
For now upon the main themselves they saw
That boundless empire, where you give the law;
Of wind's and water's rage they fearful be,
But much more fearful are your flags to see.

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