SELECTIONS IN ENGLISHJPOETRY
The Vales redoubled to the hills, and they
To Heaven. Their martyred blood and ashes sow 10
O'er all the Italian fields where still doth sway
The triple Tyrant: that from these may grow
A hundred-fold, who having learnt Thy way
Early may fly the Babylonian woe.
V
ON HIS BLINDNESS
XT7HEN 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 present 5
My true account, lest He returning chide,
Doth God exact day-labour, light denied,
1 fondly ask;—But patience to prevent
That murmur, soon replies, God doth not need
Either man's work, or his own gifts; who best 10
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.
VI
ON HIS DECEASED WIFE
ETHOUGHT I saw my late espoused Saint
Brought to me, like Alcestis, from the grave,
Whom Jove's great son to her glad husband gave,
Rescued from death by force, though pale and faint.
Mine, as whom washed from spot of childbed taint 5
Purification in the old Law did save,
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