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,
Join'd with the loud applaufe of public voice
Since Heaven, what praife we offer to his name,
Hath render'd too authentic by its choice.
III.

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,
To draw a fame to truly circular?
For, in a round, what order can be fhew'd,
Where all the parts fo equal perfect are?

VI.

His grandeur he deriv'd from heav'n alone;
For he was great ere fortune made him fo:
And wars, like mifts that rife against the fun,
Made him but greater feem, not greater grow.
VII.

No borrow'd bays his temples did adorn,
But to our crown he did fresh jewels bring;
Nor was his virtue poison'd, foon as born,
With the too early thoughts of being king.
VIII.

Fortune (that easy mistress to the young,
But to her ancient fervants coy and hard)
Him at that age her favourites rank'd among,
When the her best-lov'd Pompey did discard.
IX.

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 :
The quarrel lov'd, but did the cause abhor;
And did not strike to hurt, but made a noife.
XII.

War, our confumption, was their gainful trade :
He inward bled, whilst they prolong'd our pain;
He fought to hinder fighting, and affay'd

To ftaunch the blood by breathing of the vein.
XIII.

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:
He had his calmer influence, and his mein
Did love and majefty together blend.
XIX.

"Tis true, his count'nance did imprint an awe;
And naturally all fouls to his did bow,

As wands of divination downward draw,

And point to beds where fov'reign gold doth grow.
XX.

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,
Our once bold rival of the British main,
Now tamely glad her unjuft claim to cease,
And buy our friendship with her idol, gain.
XXII.

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;
Tho' Indian mines were in the other laid.

XXIV.

When abfent, yet we conquer'd in his right:
For tho' that fome mean artift's kill were shown
In mingling colours, or in placing light;

Yet ftill the fair defignment was his own.
XXV.

For from all tempers he could fervice draw;
The worth of each with its allay he knew,
And, as the confident of nature, faw

How the complexions did divide and brew.
XXVI.

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;
Because it drains them when it comes about,
And therefore is a tax they feldom pay.
XXVIII.

From this high fpring our foreign conquefts flow,
Which yet more glorious triumphs do portend;
Since their commencement to his arms they owe,
If fprings as high as fountains may afcend.

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.