Page:Poems of Mr. John Milton, Both English and Latin, Compos'd at several times.djvu/66

  Lift not thy spear against the Muses Bowre, The great Emathian Conqueror bid spare The house of Pindarus, when Temple and Towre Went to the ground: And the repeated air Of sad Electra's Poet had the power To save th' Athenian Walls from ruine bare.

  Lady that in the prime of earliest youth, Wisely hast shun'd the broad way and the green, And with those few art eminently seen, That labour up the Hill of heav'nly Truth, The better part with Mary, and the Ruth, Chosen thou hast, and they that overween, And at thy growing vertues fret their spleen, No anger find in thee, but pity and ruth. Thy care is fixt, and zealously attends To fill thy odorous Lamp with deeds of light, And Hope that reaps not shame. Therefore be sure Thou, when the Bridegroom with his feastfull friends Passes to bliss at the mid hour of night, Hast gain'd thy entrance, Virgin wife and pure.  Rh