T' inspire the coward, warm the cold; Gaul and Batavia dread th' impending blow; Too well the vigour of that arm they know; They lick the dust, and crouch beneath their fatal foe. His truth, like Heav'n's, was kept inviolate; For him to promise is to make it fate. His valour can triumph o'er land and main ; With broken oaths his fame he will not stain, With conquest basely bought, and with inglorious gain. XVIII. For once, O Heav'n, unfold thy adamantine Book; Let them not still be obstinately blind, Or with malignant penury 500 To starve the royal virtues of his mind. Faith is a Christian's and a subject's test; Th' amended vows of English loyalty: A series of successful years, In orderly array, a martial, manly train. Behold even the remoter shores A conquering navy proudly spread; The British canon formidably roars, While, starting from his oozy bed, Th' asserted Ocean rears his rev'rend head, 505 510 To view and recognize his ancient Lord again, 515 And, with a willing hand, restores The fasces of the main. Riij ON THE DEATH OF OLIVER CROMWELL. WRITTEN AFTER HIS FUNERAL. I. AND now 'tis time; for their officious haste Who would before have borne him to the sky, Like eager Romans, ere all rites were past, Did let too soon the sacred eagle fly. II. 1 Though our best notes are treason to his fame, Since Heav'n, what praise we offer to his name, Though in his praise no arts can lib'ral be, Since they, whose Muses have the highest flown, Add not to his immortal memory, But do an act of friendship to their own : IV. Yet 'tis our duty, and our interest too, Such monuments as we can build to raise, Lest all the world prevent what we should do, And claim a title in him by their praise. V. How shall I then begin, or where conclude, For in a round what order can be shew'd, VI. His grandeur he deriv'd from Heav'n alone; No borrow'd bays his temples did adorn, With the too early thoughts of being king. Fortune, that easy mistress to the young, ! He private mark'd the fault of others' sway, And set as sea-marks for himself to shun; Not like rash monarchs, who their youth betray By acts their age too late would wish undone. And yet dominion was not his design; We owe that blessing not to him, but Heav'n, Which to fair acts unsought rewards did join Rewards that less to him than us were given, Our former chiefs, like sticklers of the war, First sought t' inflame the parties, then to poise: The quarrel lov'd, but did the cause abhor, And did not strike to hurt, but make a noise. War, our consumption, was their gainful trade: To staunch the blood by breathing of the vein. XIII. Swift and resistless through the land he past, Like that bold Greek who did the East subdue, And made to battles such heroic haste, : XIV. He fought secure of Fortune as of Fame: Still by new maps the island might be shown Of conquests, which he strew'd where'er he came, Thick as the Galaxy with stars is sown. His palms, though under weights they did not stand, Heav'n in his portrait shew'd a workman's hand, XVI. Peace was the prize of all his toil and care, Which War had banish'd, and did now restore : |