POE M S UPON SEVERAL OCCASIONS. Heroic Stanzas on the Death of OLIVER CROMWELL, written after his Funeral. A I. ND now 'tis time; for their officious hafte, Who would before have born him to the sky, Like eager Romans, ere all rites were past, Did let too foon the facred eagle fly. H. Tho' our best notes are treafon to his fame, Tho' in his praife no arts can lib'ral be, Since they, whofe Mufes 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 fhall I then begin, or where conclude, VI. His grandeur he deriv'd from heav'n alone; No borrow'd bays his temples did adorn, Fortune (that easy mistress 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 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, First fought t' inflame the parties, then to poise : War, our confumption, was their gainful trade : To ftaunch the blood by breathing of the vein. Swift and refiftlefs through the land he pait, 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 Of conquefts, which he ftrew'd where-e'er he came, Thick as the Galaxy with ftars is fown. XV. His palms, tho' under weights they did not stand, Still thriv'd; no winter could his laurels fade: Heav'n in its portrait fhew'd a workman's hand, And drew it perfect, yet without a fhade. XVI. Peace was the price of all its toil and care, Which war had banish'd, and did now restore : Bolognia's walls thus mounted in the air, To feat themselves more furely than before. XVII. Her fafety refcu'd Ireland to him owes ; And treach'rous Scotland, to no int'reft true, Yet blefs'd that fate, which did his arms difpofe Her land to civilize, as to fubdue. XVIII. Nor was he like thofe flars, which only shine, When to pale mariners they ftorms portend: "Tis true, his count'nance did imprint an awe; As wands of divination downward draw, And point to beds where fov'reign gold doth grow. When paft all off'rings to Feretrian Jove, He Mars depos'd, and arms to gowns made yield; Succefsful councils did him foon approve As fit for clofe intrigues, as open field. XXI. To fuppliant Holland he vouchfaf'd a peace, Fame of th' afferted fea through Europe blown, Made France and Spain ambitious of his love; Each knew that fide muft conquer he would own; And for him fiercely, as for empire, strove. XXIII. No fooner was the Frenchman's caufe embrac'd, Than the late Monfieur the grave Don outweigh'd; His fortune turn'd the fcale where it was caft; XXIV. When abfent, yet we conquer'd in his right: Yet ftill the fair defignment was his own. For from all tempers he could fervice draw; How the complexions did divide and brew. Or he their fingle virtues did furvey, By intuition in his own large breaft, Where all the rich ideas of them lay, That were the rule and measure to the reft. XXVII. When fuch heroic virtue heav'n fets out, The stars, like commons, fullenly obey; From this high fpring our foreign conquefts flow, XXIX. He made us free-men of the continent, Whom Nature did like captives treat before; To nobler preys the English lion fent, And taught him firft in Belgian walks to roar. |