Thus fades the oak i'th' fprig, i'th'blade the corn; Thus without young, this Phoenix dies, new-born. Muft then old three-legg'd grey-beards with their gout, Catarrhs, rheums, aches, live three ages out? Muft drunkards, lechers, spent with finning, live In's nobler half; and the great grandfire be An iffue, which t'eternity fhall last, HEROIC STANZAS On the DEATH of OLIVER CROMWELL, A ND now 'tis time; for their officious hafte, Who would before have borne him to the sky, Like eager Romans, ere all rites were past, Did let too foon the facred eagle fly. II. Tho our best notes are treason to his fame, Tho 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: Yet 'tis our duty, and our interest too, Such monuments as we can build to raife; 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, His grandeur he deriv'd from heav'n alone'; For he was great ere fortune made him so: And wars, like mifts that rise against the fun, Made him but greater seem, not greater grow. VII. No borrow'd bays his temples did adorn, VIII. Fortune, that eafy mistress to the young, But to her ancient fervants coy and hard, Him at that age her favourites rank'd among, When she her beft-lov'd Pompey did discard. · IX. He private mark'd the fault of others fway. And fet as fea-marks for himself to fhun: Not like rash monarchs, who their youth betray By acts their age too late would wish undone. X. And yet dominion was not his defign; We owe that bleffing, not to him, but heav'n, Which to fair acts unfought rewards did join; Rewards, that lefs to him than us were given. XI. Our former chiefs, like fticklers of the war, And did not strike to hurt, but make a noise. |