A Letter To Doctor Ingelo, then With My Lord Whitlock, Amba
Quid facis Arctoi charissime transfuga coeli, Ingele, proh sero cognite, rapte cito? Num satis Hybernum defendis pellibus Astrum, Qui modo tam mollis nec bene firmus eras? Quae Gentes Hominum, quae sit Natura Locorum, Sint
In Effigiem Oliveri Cromwell
Haec est quae toties Inimicos Umbra fugavit, At sub qua Cives Otia lenta terunt. In eandem Reginae Sueciae transmissam Bellipotens Virgo, septem Regina Trionum. Christina, Arctoi lucida stella Poli; Cernis quas merui dura sub
Eyes And Tears
How wisely Nature did decree, With the same Eyes to weep and see! That, having view’d the object vain, They might be ready to complain. And since the Self-deluding Sight, In a false Angle
Blake's Victory
On the Victory Obtained by Blake over the Spaniards in the Bay of Santa Cruz, in the Island of Tenerife, 1657 Now does Spain’s fleet her spacious wings unfold, Leaves the New World and
A Dialogue Between Thyrsis And Dorinda
Dorinda When Death, shall snatch us from these Kids, And shut up our divided Lids, Tell me Thyrsis, prethee do, Whither thou and I must go. Thyrsis To the Elizium: (Dorinda) oh where i’st?
Thoughts in a Garden
HOW vainly men themselves amaze To win the palm, the oak, or bays, And their uncessant labours see Crown’d from some single herb or tree, Whose short and narrow-verged shade Does prudently their toils
A Dialogue Between the Resolved Soul, And Created Pleasure
Courage my Soul, now learn to wield The weight of thine immortal Shield. Close on thy Head thy Helmet bright. Ballance thy Sword against the Fight. See where an Army, strong as fair, With
A Dialogue Between The Soul And Body
Soul O Who shall, from this Dungeon, raise A Soul inslav’d so many wayes? With bolts of Bones, that fetter’d stands In Feet ; and manacled in Hands. Here blinded with an Eye ;
On The Victory Obtained By Blake Over the Spaniards, In The Bay Of Scanctacruze, In The Island Of teneriff.1657
Now does Spains Fleet her spatious wings unfold, Leaves the new World and hastens for the old: But though the wind was fair, the slowly swoome Frayted with acted Guilt, and Guilt to come:
The Match
Nature had long a Treasure made Of all her choisest store; Fearing, when She should be decay’d, To beg in vain for more. Her Orientest Colours there, And Essences most pure, With sweetest Perfumes
Bermudas
Where the remote Bermudas ride In th’ Oceans bosome unespy’d, From a small Boat, that row’d along, The listning Winds receiv’d this Song. What should we do but sing his Praise That led us
The Character Of Holland
Holland, that scarce deserves the name of Land, As but th’Off-scouring of the Brittish Sand; And so much Earth as was contributed By English Pilots when they heav’d the Lead; Or what by th’
A Poem Upon The Death Of O. C
That Providence which had so long the care Of Cromwell’s head, and numbred ev’ry hair, Now in its self (the Glass where all appears) Had seen the period of his golden Years: And thenceforth
The Gallery
Clora come view my Soul, and tell Whether I have contriv’d it well. Now all its several lodgings lye Compos’d into one Gallery; And the great Arras-hangings, made Of various Faces, by are laid;
The Definition Of Love
My love is of a birth as rare As ’tis for object strange and high: It was begotten by Despair Upon Impossibility. Magnanimous Despair alone Could show me so divine a thing, Where feeble