HEROIC STANZAS, CONSECRATED TO THE MEMORY OF HIS HIGHNESS OLIVER, LATE LORD PROTECTOR OF THIS COMMONWEALTH, &c. WRITTEN AFTER THE CELEBRATING OF HIS FUNERAL. I AND now 'tis time; for their officious haste 2 Though our best notes are treason to his fame 3 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; 4 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. 5 How shall I then begin or where conclude 6 His grandeur he derived from Heaven alone, 7 No borrowed bays his temples did adorn, But to our crown he did fresh jewels bring; Nor was his virtue poisoned, soon as born, With the too early thoughts of being king. 8 Fortune, that easy mistress of the young, 9 He, private, marked the faults of others' sway ΙΟ And yet dominion was not his design; We owe that blessing not to him but Heaven, Which to fair acts unsought rewards did join, Rewards that less to him than us were given. II Our former chiefs, like sticklers of the war, And did not strike to hurt, but make a noise. 12 War, our consumption, was their gainful trade; He fought to end our fighting, and assayed To stanch the blood by breathing of the vein. 13 Swift and resistless through the land he passed, Like that bold Greek who did the East subdue, And made to battles such heroic haste As if on wings of victory he flew. 14 He fought, secure of fortune as of fame, Till by new maps the Island might be shown 15 His palms, though under weights they did not stand, 16 Peace was the prize of all his toil and care, Which war had banished and did now restore: Bologna's walls thus mounted in the air To seat themselves more surely than before. 17 Her safety rescued Ireland to him owes; And treacherous Scotland, to no interest true, Yet blessed that fate which did his arms dispose Her land to civilize as to subdue. 18 Nor was he like those stars which only shine 19 'Tis true his countenance did imprint an awe And naturally all souls to his did bow, As wands of divination downward draw And point to beds where sovereign gold doth grow. 20 When, past all offerings to Feretrian Jove, He Mars deposed and arms to gowns made yield, Successful counsels did him soon approve As fit for close intrigues as open field. 21 To suppliant Holland he vouchsafed a peace, 22 Fame of the asserted sea, through Europe blown, 23 No sooner was the Frenchman's cause embraced 24 When absent, yet we conquered in his right: Yet still the fair designment was his own. 25 For from all tempers he could service draw; And, as the confident of Nature, saw How she complexions did divide and brew: 26 Or he their single virtues did survey That were the rule and measure to the rest. 27 When such heroic virtue Heaven sets out, 28 From this high spring our foreign conquests flow 29 He made us freemen of the Continent Whom nature did like captives treat before, To nobler preys the English Lion sent, And taught him first in Belgian walks to roar. 30 That old unquestioned pirate of the land, Proud Rome, with dread the fate of Dunkirk heard, And trembling wished behind more Alps to stand, Although an Alexander were her guard. 31 By his command we boldly crossed the Line, 32 Such was our Prince, yet owned a soul above Thus poor mechanic arts in public move, 33 Nor died he when his ebbing fame went less, |