THE EARL OF SOMERSET, &c.
OT forc'd by fortune, but since your free mind
(Made by affliction) rests in choice re-
sign'd
To calm retreat, laid quite beneath the wind
Of grace and glory, I well know, my Lord,
You would not be entitled to a word
That might a thought remove from your repose,
To thunder and spit flames, as greatness does,
For all the trumps that still tell where he goes.
Of which trumps Dedication being one,
Methinks I see you start to hear it blown.
But this is no such trump as summons lords
'Gainst Envy's steel to draw their leaden swords,
Or 'gainst hare-lipp'd Detraction, Contempt,
All which from all resistance stand exempt,
It being as hard to sever wrong from merit,
As meat-indu'd from blood, or blood from spirit.
Nor in the spirit's chariot rides the soul
In bodies chaste, with more divine control,