Of fun, or moon, or star, throughout the year,
Or man, or woman. Yet I argue not
Against Heav'n's hand or will, nor bate 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 loft them overply'd
In liberty's defence, my noble task,

Of which all Europe talks from side to side.

This thought might lead me through the world's

vain mafk

Content though blind, had I no better guide.

XXIII.

On his deceased WIFE *.

Methought I faw my late efpoufed faint

Brought to me like Alceftis from the grave,

Whom Jove's great fon to her glad husband gave,

Rescued from death by force, though pale and faint.

Mine, as whom wash'd from fpot of child-bed taint 5
Purification in the old Law did fave,

And such, as yet once more I trust to have
Full fight of her in Heav'n without restraint,
Came vested all in white, pure as her mind :
Her face was veil'd, yet to my fancied fight
Love, fweetnefs, goodness, in her perfon fhin'd

10

* This was his fecond wife, Catharine the daughter of Captain Woodcock of Hackney, who lived with him not above a year after their marriage, and died in childbed of a daughter.

So clear, as in no face with more delight.

But O as to embrace me fhe inclin'd,

I wak'd, she fled, and day brought back my night.

XXIV.

On occafion of the PLAGUE in LONDON.

Found on a glafs window at Chalfont, in Buckinghamfhire, where Milton refided during the continuance of that calamity.

[From Birch's Life.]

Fair mirror of foul times; whofe fragile fheem Shall, as it blazeth, break; while Providence (Aye watching o'er his faints with eye unfeen)

Spreads the red rod of angry peftilence,

To fweep the wicked and their counsels hence; Yea, all to break the pride of lustful kings,

Who heaven's lore reject for brutish sense; As erft he fcourg'd Jeffides' fin of yore,

For the fair Hittite, when, on feraph's wings, He fent him war, or plague, or famine fore.

PSALM S.

PSAL

B Lefs'

M S.

PSALM I. Done into verfe, 1653.

Lefs'd is the man who hath not walk'd aftray
In counsel of the wicked, and i' th' way

Of finners hath not stood,

Offcorners hath not fat.

and in the feat

But in the great
Jehovah's law is ever his delight,
And in his law he studies day and night.
He shall be as a tree which planted grows
By watery ftreams, and in his feafon knows
To yield his fruit, and his leaf shall not fall,
And what he takes in hand fhall profper all.
Not fo the wicked, but as chaff which fann'd
The wind drives, fo the wicked shall not stand
In judgment, or abide their trial then,
Nor finners in th' affembly of juft men..
For the Lord knows th' upright way of the just,
And the way of bad men to ruin must.

PS AL. II. Done Aug. 8, 1653. Terzette..

WHY do the Gentiles tumult, and the nations

5

10

15

Mufe a vain thing, the kings of th' earth up stand With power, and princes in their congregations Lay deep their plots together through each land

Against

Against the Lord and his Meffiah dear?

Let us break off, fay they, by ftrength of hand Their bonds, and caft from us, no more to wear,

Their twifted cords: He who in Heav'n doth dwell Shall laugh, the Lord fhall fcoff them, then fevere Speak to them in his wrath, and in his fell

And fierce ire trouble them; but I, faith he, Anointed have my King (though ye rebel) On Sion my holy' hill. A firm decree

I will declare; the Lord to me hath said Thou art my Son, I have begotten thee This day; afk of me, and the grant is made; As thy poffeffion I on thee beftow

ΙΟ

15

Th' Heathen, and as thy conquest to be sway'd Earth's utmost bounds: them fhalt thou bring full

low

With iron scepter bruis'd, and them disperse
Like to a potter's vessel shiver'd fo.

And now be wife at length, ye Kings averse,
Be taught, ye Judges of the earth; with fear
Jehovah serve, and let your joy converse
With trembling; kiss the Son, left he appear
In anger, and ye perish in the way,
If once his wrath take fire like fuel fere.
Happy all those who have in him their stay!

20

25

PSAL. III.

PSAL. III. Aug. 9, 1653.

When he fled from Abfalom.

LORD, how many are my foes!

How

many thofe

That in arms against me rise !

Many are they

That of my life diftruftfully thus fay,

No help for him in God there lies.

But thou, Lord, art my shield, my glory,
Thee through my story

Th' exalter of my head I count;

Aloud I cry'd

Unto Jehovah, he full foon reply'd
And heard me from his holy mount.

I lay and flept, I wak'd again,
For my fuftain

Was the Lord. Of many millions
The populous rout

I fear not, though incamping round about
They pitch against me their pavilions.

Rife, Lord; fave me, my God; for thou

Haft fmote ere now

On the cheek-bone all my foes,

Of men abhorr'd

5

10

15

20

Haft broke the teeth. This help was from the Lord;

Thy bleffing on thy people flows.

PSAL. IV.