HEROIC STANZAS on the Death of OLIVER CROMWELL, Written after his Funeral. I. AND now 'tis time; for their officious hafte, Who would before have borne him to the sky, Like eager Romans, ere all rites were past, II. Though our best notes are treason to his fame, III. Though in his praise no arts can liberal 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; Left 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 heaven alone; VII. No borrow'd bays his temples did adorn, VIII. Fortune, that eafy miftrefs to the young, He private mark'd the fault of others' sway, And fet as fea-marks for himself to fhun : Not like rafh monarchs, who their youth betray By acts their age too late would with undone. And yet X. dominion was not his defign; Our former chiefs, like fticklers of the war, XII. War, our confumption, was their gainful trade: To ftaunch the blood by breathing of the vein. Swift and refiftlefs through the land he past, Like that bold Greek who did the Eaft fubdue, And made to battles fuch heroic hafte, As if on wings of victory he flew. XIV. He fought fecure of fortune as of fame : Still by new maps the island might be shewn, XV. His palms, though under weights they did not ftand, Peace was the prize of all his toil and care, To feat themselves more furely than before. Her fafety refcu'd Ireland to him owes; And treacherous Scotland to no intereft true, Yet bleft that fate which did his arms difpofe Her land to civilize, as to fubdue. Nor XVIII. Nor was he like thofe ftars which only fhine, 'Tis true, his count'nance did imprint an awe; And point to beds where fovereign gold doth grow. XX. When paft all offerings to Feretrian Jove, He Mars depos'd, and arms to gowns made yield; Successful councils did him foon approve As fit for clofe intrigues, as open field. XXI. To fuppliant Holland he vouchfaf'd a peace, XXII. Fame of th' afferted fea through Europe blown, XXIII. No fooner was the Frenchman's caufe embrac'd, When XXIV. When abfent, yet we conquer'd in his right: XXV. For from all tempers he could fervice draw; How the complexions did divide and brew. XXVI. Or he their fingle virtues did furvey, By intuition in his own large breast, That were the rule and meafure to the reft. When fuch heroic virtue heaven fets out, The ftars, like commons, fullenly obey; Because it drains them when it comes about, And therefore is a tax they feldom pay. XXVIII. From this high spring our foreign conquests flow, He made us free-men of the continent, And taught him first in Belgian walks to roar. C That |