Mother with infant down the rocks. Their moans
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 hundredfold, who, having learnt thy way,
Early may fly [the Babylonian woe].
XIX.
ON HIS BLINDNESS.
When I consider how my light is spent