Done into Verse, 1653.
Bless'd is the man who hath not walk'd astray
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X
Daughter to that good Earl, once President
Of Englands Counsel, and her Treasury,
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I
O Nightingale, that on yon bloomy Spray
Warbl'st at eeve, when all the Woods are still,
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Daughter to that good Earl, one President
Of England’s Council and her Treasury,
Who lived in both unstained with gold or fee,
And left them both, more in himself content,
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XVI
When I consider how my light is spent,
E're half my days, in this dark world and wide,
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So spake the Son of God; and Satan stood
A while as mute, confounded what to say,
What to reply, confuted and convinced
Of his weak arguing and fallacious drift;
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XX
Lawrence, of virtuous father virtuous son,
Now that the fields are dank, and ways are mire,
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XIV
When Faith and Love which parted from thee never,
Had ripen'd thy just soul to dwell with God,
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Avenge, O Lord, thy slaughter'd saints, whose bones
Lie scatter'd on the Alpine mountains cold,
Ev'n them who kept thy truth so pure of old,
When all our fathers worshipp'd stocks and stones;
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