LXX WHEN THE ASSAULT WAS INTENDED TO THE CITY APTAIN, or Colonel, or Knight in arms, CA Whose chance on these defenceless doors may seize, 'If deed of honour did thee ever please, Guard them, and him within protect from harms. He can requite thee; for he knows the charms Lift not thy spear against the Muses' bower: Went to the ground: and the repeated air To save the Athenian walls from ruin bare. J. Milton LXXI ON HIS BLINDNESS WHEN I consider how my light is spent W re half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one talent which is death to hide To serve therewith my Maker, and present That murmur, soon replies; God doth not need Is kingly; thousands at his bidding speed J. Milton LXXII CHARACTER OF A HAPPY LIFE H OW happy is he born and taught Whose passions not his masters are, Who envies none that chance doth raise Who hath his life from rumours freed, Who God doth late and early pray This man is freed from servile bands Of hope to rise, or fear to fall; Lord of himself, though not of lands; And having nothing, yet hath all. Sir H. Wotton LXXIII THE NOBLE NATURE T is not growing like a tree Man better be; Or standing long an oak, three hundred year, Is fairer far in May, Although it fall and die that night It was the plant and flower of Light. In small proportions we just beauties see; And in short measures life may perfect be. B. Jonson LXXIV W THE GIFTS OF GOD HEN God at first made Man, Having a glass of blessings standing by ; Let us (said he) pour on him all we can : So strength first made a way; Then beauty flow'd, then wisdom, honour, pleasure : Perceiving that alone, of all his treasure, For if I should (said he) Bestow this jewel also on my creature, He would adore my gifts instead of me, Yet let him keep the rest, But keep them with repining restlessness: G. Herbert H LXXV THE RETREAT APPY those early days, when I Before I understood this place Before I taught my tongue to wound A several sin to every sense, But felt through all this fleshly dress O how I long to travel back, And tread again that ancient track! H. Vaughan L LXXVI TO MR. LAWRENCE AWRENCE, 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 What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice, |