 | Poems on Affairs of State |  |
Heroick Stanza's, on the late Usurper Oliver Cromwell:
Written after his Funeral, by Mr. Dryden.
I
And now 'tis time; for their officious hast,Who would before have born him to the Sky,
Like eager Romans, e're all Rites were past,
Did let too soon the sacred Eagle fly.
II
Though our best Notes are Treason to his Fame,Join'd with the loud applause of publick Voice;
Since Heaven, what Praise we offer to his Name,
Hath render'd too Authentick by its choice.
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 int'rest 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.
V
How shall I then begin, or where conclude,To draw a Fame so truely Circular?
8
Where all the parts so equal perfect are?
VI
His Grandure he deriv'd from Heaven alone,For he was great e're Fortune made him so,
And Wars like Mists that rise against the Sun,
Made him but greater seem, nor greater grow.
VII
No borrow'd Bays his Temples did adorn,But to our Crown he did fresh Jewels bring;
Nor was his Vertue poison'd soon as born.
With the too early thoughts of being King.
VIII
Fortune (that easie Mistriss to the young,But to her ancient Servants coy and hard)
Him, at that age, her Favourites rank'd among,
When she her best lov'd Pompey did discard.
IX
He private, mark'd the Faults of others sway,And set as Sea-marks for himself to shun;
Not like rash Monarchs, who their youth betray,
By Acts their Age too late would wish undone.
X
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.
XI
Our former Chief like Sticklers of the War,First sought t'inflame the parties, then to poise:
The quarrel lov'd, but did the cause abhor,
And did not strike to hurt, but make a noise.
XII
War, our Consumption, was their gainful Trade;He inward bled, whilst they prolong'd our pain;
9
To stanch the blood by breathing of the Vein.
XIII
Swift and resistless through the Land he past,Like that bold Greek, who did the East subdue,
And made to Battels such Heroick haste,
As if on Wings of Victory he flew.
XIV
He Fought secure of Fortune as of Fame,Still by new Maps the Island might be shewn,
Of Conquests which he strew'd were e're he came,
Thick as the Galaxy with Stars is sown.
XV
His Palms, though under weights they did not stand,Still thriv'd, no Winter could his Lawrels fade:
Heaven in his Portraict shew'd a Workman's hand,
And drew it perfect, yet without a shade.
XVI
Peace was the prize of all his toil and care,Which War had banish'd, and did now restore:
Bolognia's Walls thus mounted in the Air,
To seat themselves more surely than before.
XVII
Her safety rescued Ireland, to him owes,And treacherous Scotland to no int'rest true.
Yet bless'd that Fate which did his Arms dispose
Her Land to civilize, as to subdue.
XVIII
Nor was he like those Stars which only shine,When to pale Mariners, they Storms portend;
He had his calmer influence, and his Mien
Did Love and Majesty together blend.
XIX
Tis true his Countenance did imprint an awe.And naturally all Souls to his did bow,
10
And point to beds where Sov'raign Gold doth grow.
XX
When past all offerings to Pheretrian Jove,He Mars depos'd, and Arms to Gowns made yield;
Successful Councels did him soon approve,
As fit for close Intrigues, as open Field.
XXI
To suppliant Holland he vouchsaf'd a Peace,Our once bold Rival in the British Main,
Now tamely glad her unjust claim to cease,
And buy our Friendship with her Idol, Gain.
XXII
Fame of th'asserted Sea through Europe blown,Made France and Spain ambitious of his Love;
Each knew that side must conquer, he Would own;
And for him fiercely, as for Empire strove.
XXIII
No sooner was the French-man's Cause imbrac'd,Than the light Monsieur, the grave Don outweigh'd;
His Fortune turn'd the Scale where it was cast,
Though Indian Mines where in the other laid.
XXIV
When absent, yet we conquer'd in his Right;For though that some mean Artist's Skill were shewn
In mingling Colours, or in placing Light;
Yet still the fair Designment was his own:
XXV
For from all Tempers he could Service draw;The worth of each with its allay he knew;
And as the Confident of Nature saw
How she Complections did divide and brew.
XXIV
Or he their single Vertues did survey,By intuition in his own large Breast,
11
That were the Rule and Measure to the rest.
XXVII
When such Heroick Vertue, Heaven set out,The Stars, like Commons, sullenly obey;
Because it drains them when it comes about,
And therefore is a Tax they seldom pay.
XXVIII
From this high Spring our Foreign Conquests flow,Which yet more glorious Triumphs do portend;
Since their Commencement to his Arms they owe,
If Springs as high as Fountains may Ascend.
XXIX
He made us Free-Men 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.
XXX
That old unquestion'd Pirate of the Land,Proud Rome, with dread the Fate of Dunkirk heard;
And trembling wish'd behind more Alps to stand,
Although an Alexander were her Guard.
XXXI
By his Command, we boldly cross'd the Line,And bravely fought where Southern Stars arise,
We trac'd the far-fetch'd Gold unto the Mine,
And that which brib'd our Fathers made our Prize.
XXXII
Such was our Prince, yet own'd a Soul aboveThe highest Acts it could produce or shew:
Thus poor Mechanick Arts in publick move,
Whilst the deep Secrets beyond Practice go.
XXXIII
Nor died he when his ebbing Fame went less,But when fresh Laurels courted him to live;
12
As if above what Triumphs Earth can give.
XXXIV
His latest Victories still thickest came,As near the Center, Motion doth increase;
Till he press'd down by his own weighty Name,
Did like the Vestal, under spoils decease.
XXXV
But first the Ocean as a Tribute sent.That Giant Prince of all her wat'ry Herd;
And th'Isle, when her protecting Genius went,
Upon his Obsequies loud sighs conferr'd.
XXXVI
No civil Broils have since his Death arose,But Faction now by habit does obey;
And Wars have that respect for his Repose,
As Winds for Halcyons, when they breed at Sea.
XXXVII
His Ashes in a peaceful Urn shall rest,His Name a great Example stands to shew,
How strangely high Endeavours may be blest,
Where Piety and Valour jointly go.
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