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| Juan de Arellano Small basket of flowers 1671 oil on canvas Museo de Bellas Artes de Bilbao |
TO THE LORD GENERAL CROMWELL, MAY 1652
On the proposal of certain ministers at the Committee for Propagation of the Gospel
Cromwell, 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 Scot 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.
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| Herman van Swanevelt Italian landscape ca. 1645-48 oil on canvas Dulwich Picture Gallery, London |
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| Herman van Swanevelt Arch of Constantine, Rome 1645 oil on canvas Dulwich Picture Gallery, London |
ON THE LATE MASSACRE IN PIEDMONT
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 worshipped stocks and stones,
Forget not: in thy book record their groans
Who were thy sheep, and in their ancient fold
Slain by the bloody Piedmontese, 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 th' 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.
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| Jan van Goyen A Calm ca. 1646-50 oil on panel Museum of Fine Arts, Budapest |
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| Gerard ter Borch Family portrait 1656 oil on canvas Hallwyl Museum, Stockholm |
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| Gerard ter Borch Maid milking cow in a barn ca. 1652-54 oil on panel Getty Museum, Los Angeles |
ON THE DETRACTION WHICH FOLLOWED
UPON MY WRITING CERTAIN TREATISES
A book was writ of late called Tetrachordon,
And wov'n close, both matter, form, and style;
The subject new: it walked the town awhile,
Numb'ring good intellects; now seldom pored on.
Cries the stall-reader, 'Bless us! what a word on
A title-page is this!'; and some in file
Stand spelling false, while one might walk to Mile-
End Green. Why is it harder, sirs, than Gordon,
Colkitto, or Macdonnel, or Galasp?
Those rugged names to our like mouths grow sleek
That would have made Quintilian stare and gasp.
Thy age, like ours, O soul of Sir John Cheek,
Hated not learning worse than toad or asp,
When thou taught'st Cambridge and King Edward Greek.
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| Jusepe de Ribera Martyrdom of Saint Andrew 1628 oil on canvas Museum of Fine Arts, Budapest |
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| Cornelis van Poelenburgh Valley with ruins and figures ca. 1627 oil on canvas Dulwich Picture Gallery, London |
TO MR. H. LAWES ON HIS AIRS
Harry, whose tuneful and well-measured song
First taught our English music how to span
Words with just note and accent, not to scan
With Midas' ears, committing short and long:
Thy worth and skill exempts thee from the throng,
With praise enough for Envy to look wan;
To after age thou shalt be writ the man
That with smooth air couldst humour best our tongue.
Thou honour'st Verse, and Verse must lend her wing
To honour thee, the priest of Phoebus' quire,
That tun'st their happiest lines in hymn or story.
Dante shall give Fame leave to set thee higher
That his Casella, whom he wooed to sing,
Met in the milder shades of Purgatory.
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| Emanuel de Witte Church interior, Amsterdam 1685 oil on canvas Hermitage, Saint Petersburg |
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| Anthonie de Lorme Interior of the Laurenskerk, Rotterdam 1662 oil on canvas Getty Museum, Los Angeles |
ON THE RELIGIOUS MEMORY OF MRS. CATHERINE THOMSON,
MY CHRISTIAN FRIEND, DECEASED DECEMBER 16, 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 endeavour,
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 purple beams
And azure wings, that up they flew so drest,
And spake the truth of thee on glorious themes
Before the Judge; who thenceforth bid thee rest,
And drink thy fill of pure immortal streams.
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| Claude Lorrain Pastoral landscape ca. 1628-30 oil on canvas Blanton Museum of Art, Austin, Texas |
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| Claude Lorrain Landscape with rock arch and river ca. 1626-32 oil on canvas Museum of Fine Arts, Houston |
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| Claude Lorrain Capriccio with ruins of the Roman Forum ca. 1634 oil on canvas Art Gallery of South Australia, Adelaide |
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| Claude de Jongh Thames at Westminster ca. 1625 oil on panel Yale Center for British Art |
TO MR. LAWRENCE
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 attire
The lily and rose, that neither sowed nor spun.
What neat repast shall feast us, light and choice,
Of Attic taste, with wine, whence we may rise
To hear the lute well touched, or artful voice
Warble immortal notes and Tuscan air?
He who of those delights can judge and spare
To interpose them oft, is not unwise.
– selected sonnets from The English Poems of John Milton, edited by H.C. Beeching (Oxford University Press, 1913)