victim bare,
    And through mine eyes transfix’d my throbbing heart;
    Those eyes, which now with constant sorrows flow: 
    But poor the triumph of his boasted art,
    Who thus could pierce a naked youth, nor dare
    To you in armour mail’d even to display his bow!

    WRANGHAM.

      ’Twas on the blessed morning when the sun
    In pity to our Maker hid his light,
    That, unawares, the captive I was won,
    Lady, of your bright eyes which chain’d me quite;
    That seem’d to me no time against the blows
    Of love to make defence, to frame relief: 
    Secure and unsuspecting, thus my woes
    Date their commencement from the common grief. 
    Love found me feeble then and fenceless all,
    Open the way and easy to my heart
    Through eyes, where since my sorrows ebb and flow: 
    But therein was, methinks, his triumph small,
    On me, in that weak state, to strike his dart,
    Yet hide from you so strong his very bow.

    MACGREGOR.

SONNET IV.

Quel ch’ infinita providenza ed arte.

HE CELEBRATES THE BIRTHPLACE OF LAURA.

      He that with wisdom, goodness, power divine,
    Did ample Nature’s perfect book design,
    Adorn’d this beauteous world, and those above,
    Kindled fierce Mars, and soften’d milder Jove: 
    When seen on earth the shadows to fulfill
    Of the less volume which conceal’d his will,
    Took John and Peter from their homely care,
    And made them pillars of his temple fair. 
    Nor in imperial Rome would He be born,
    Whom servile Judah yet received with scorn: 
    E’en Bethlehem could her infant King disown,
    And the rude manger was his early throne. 
    Victorious sufferings did his pomp display,
    Nor other chariot or triumphal way. 
    At once by Heaven’s example and decree,
    Such honour waits on such humility.

    BASIL KENNET.

      The High Eternal, in whose works supreme
    The Master’s vast creative power hath spoke: 
    At whose command each circling sphere awoke,
    Jove mildly rose, and Mars with fiercer beam: 
    To earth He came, to ratify the scheme
    Reveal’d to us through prophecy’s dark cloak,
    To sound redemption, speak man’s fallen yoke: 
    He chose the humblest for that heavenly theme. 
    But He conferr’d not on imperial Rome
    His birth’s renown; He chose a lowlier sky,—­
    To stand, through Him, the proudest spot on earth! 
    And now doth shine within its humble home
    A star, that doth each other so outvie,
    That grateful nature hails its lovely birth.

    WOLLASTON.