TO MR. LAWRENCE. Lawrence, of virtuous father, virtuous son, Now that the fields are dank, and ways are mire, Where shall we sometimes meet, and by the fire Help waste a sullen day, what may be won From the hard season gaining? Time will run On smoother till Favonius re-inspire The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh attire He who of these delights can judge, and spare TO CYRIAC SKINNER. Cyriac, whose grandsire, on the royal bench And what the Swede intends, and what the French: To measure life learn thou betimes, and know Toward solid good what leads the nearest way; For other things mild Heaven a time ordains, And disapproves that care, though wise in show, That when superfluous burden loads the day, And, when God sends a cheerful hour, refrains. TO THE SAME. Cyriac, this three-years-day, these eyes, though clear, Against Heaven's hand or will, nor bate a jot Of which all Europe rings from side to side. This thought might lead me thro' the world's vain mask Content, though blind, had I no better guide. WHEN THE ASSAULT WAS INTENDED TO THE CITY. Captain, or Colonel, or Knight in arms, Whose chance on these defenceless doors may seize, Guard them, and him within protect from harms DRYDEN. VENI CREATOR CREATOR Spirit by whose aid Come pour thy joys on human kind; From sin and sorrow set us free, O, source of uncreated light, Plenteous of grace, descend from high, Thou strength of his Almighty hand, Whose power does heaven and earth command. Proceeding Spirit, our defence, Who dost the gift of tongues dispense, And crownst thy gift with eloquence ! Refine and purge our earthly parts: But, oh, inflame and fire our hearts! Our frailties help, our vice control, Submit the senses to the soul; And when rebellious they are grown, Then lay thy hand, and hold them down. Chase from our minds th' infernal foe, And peace, the fruit of love, bestow; And, lest our feet should step astray, Protect and guide us in the way. Make us eternal truths receive, Immortal honour, endless fam", POPE. MESSIAH. YE nymphs of Solyma! begin the song: To heavenly themes sublimer strains belong. The mossy fountains and the sylvan shades, The dreams of Pindus and the Aonian maids, Delight no more. O Thou my voice inspire, Who touched Isaiah's hallowed lips with fire! Rapt into future times, the bard begun; Peace o'er the world her olive wand extend, |