Page:The Complete Poetical Works of John Milton.djvu/119

 SONNETS

��77

��TO SIR HENRY VANE THE YOUNGER

(1652)

VANE, young in years, but in sage counsel

old,

Than whom a better senator ne'er held The helm of Rome, when gowns, not

arms, repelled

The fierce Epirot and the African bold, Whether to settle peace, or to unfold The drift of hollow states hard to be

spelled;

Then to advise how war may best, up- held, Move by her two main nerves, iron and

gold,

In all her equipage; besides, to know Both spiritual power and civil, what

each means, What severs each, thou hast learned,

which few have done. The bounds of either sword to thee we

owe: Therefore on thy firm hand Religion

leans In peace, and reckons thee her eldest son.

��ON THE LATE MASSACRE IN PIEMONT

(1655)

AVENGE, O Lord, thy slaughtered Saints,

whose bones Lie scattered on the Alpine mountains

cold; Even them who kept thy truth so pure

of old, When all our fathers worshiped stocks and

stones,

Forget not : in thy book record their groans Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient

fold Slain by the bloody Piemontese, that

rolled Mother with infant down the rocks. Their

moans

The vales redoubled to the hills, and they To heaven. Their martyred blood and ashes sow

��O'er all the Italian fields, where still doth

sway The triple Tyrant; that from these may

grow

A hundredfold, who, having learnt thy way, Early may fly the Babylonian woe.

��ON HIS BLINDNESS

(i6S5)

WHEN I consider how my light is spent

Ere half my days in this dark world and wide,

And that one Talent which is death to hide

Lodged with me useless, though my soul

more bent

To serve therewith my Maker, and pre- sent

My true account, lest He returning chide,

" Doth God exact day-labour, light de- nied ? "

I fondly ask. But Patience, to pre- vent

That murmur, soon replies, " God doth not need

Either man's work or his own gifts. Who best

Bear his mild yoke, they serve him best.

His state Is kingly: thousands at his bidding speed,

And post o'er land and ocean without rest;

They also serve who only stand and wait."

��TO MR. LAWRENCE (1656)

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 reinspire The frozen earth, and clothe in fresh at- tire

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