Page:The Complete Poetical Works of John Milton.djvu/118

 76 Than his Casella, whom he wooed to

sing, Met in the milder shades of Purgatory.

ON THE RELIGIOUS MEMORY OF MRS. CATHERINE THOMSON, MY CHRISTIAN FRIEND, DECEASED DEC. 16, 1646

(1646)

WHEN Faith and Love, which parted from

thee never, Had ripened thy just soul to dwell with

God, Meekly thou didst resign this earthy

load Of death, called life, which us from life

doth sever.

Thy works, and alms, and all thy good en- deavour, Stayed not behind, nor in the grave were

trod; But, as Faith pointed with her golden

rod, Followed thee up to joy and bliss for

ever. Love led them on; and Faith, who knew

them best

Thy handmaids, clad them o'er with pur- ple beams And azure wings, that up they flew so

drest, And speak the truth of thee on glorious

themes Before the Judge; who thenceforth bid

thee rest, And drink thy fill of pure immortal

streams.

ON THE LORD GENERAL FAIRFAX AT THE SIEGE OF COLCHESTER

(1648)

FAIRFAX, whose name in arms through

Europe rings, Filling each mouth with envy or with

praise,

And all her jealous monarchs with amaze, And rumours loud that daunt remotest

kings,

��Thy firm unshaken virtue ever brings Victory home, though new rebellions

raise Their Hydra heads, and the false North

displays Her broken league to imp their serpent

wings. O yet a nobler task awaits thy hand

(For what can war but endless war still

breed ?) Till truth and right from violence be

freed,

And public faith cleared from the shame- ful brand Of public fraud. In vain doth Valour

bleed, While Avarice and Rapine share the

land.



(1652), our chief of men, who through a cloud Not of war only, but detractions rude, Guided by faith and matchless fortitude, To peace and truth thy glorious way hast ploughed, And on the neck of crowned Fortune proud Hast reared God's trophies, and his work pursued, While Darwen stream, with blood of Scots imbrued, And Dunbar field, resounds thy praises loud, And Worcester's laureate wreath: yet much remains To conquer still; Peace hath her victories No less renowned than War: new foes arise, Threatening to bind our souls with secular chains. Help us to save free conscience from the paw Of hireling wolves, whose Gospel is their maw. 