 | Poems on Affairs of State |  |
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A Panegyrick on O. Cromwell, and his Victories.
By E. Waller, Esq;.
While with a strong, and yet a gentle Hand,
You bridle Faction, and our Hearts Command;
Protect us from our selves, and from the Foe;
Make us Unite, and make us Conquer too.
Let partial Spirits still aloud complain,
Think themselves injur'd that they cannot Reign
And own no Liberty, but where they may,
Without controul upon their fellows Prey.
Above the Waves as Neptune shew'd his Face,
To chide the Winds, and save the Trojan Race.
So has your Highness (rais'd above the rest,)
Storms of Ambition tossing us Repest.
Your drooping Country, torn with Civil hate,
Restor'd by you, is made a glorious State:
The Seat of Empire, where the Irish come,
And the unwilling Scot, to fetch their Doom.
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With bending Sails, each Vessel of our Fleet.
Your Pow'r resounds as far as Wind can Blow,
Or swelling Sails upon the Globe may go.
Heaven that has plac'd this Island to give Law,
To ballance Europe, and her State to awe:
In this Conjunction does our Britain Smile,
The greatest Leader to the greatest Isle.
Whether this Portion of the World were rent
By the whide Ocean from the Continent;
Or thus created, it was sure design'd,
To be the Sacred Refuge of Mankind.
Hither the Opprest shall henceforth resort,
Justice to crave, and succour of your Court,
And shew, your Highness, not for ours alone,
But for the World's Protector shall be known.
Fame, swifter than your winged Navy flies
Through every Land that near the Ocean lies;
Sounding your Name, and telling dreadful News
To all that Piracy and Rapine use:
With such a Chief the meanest Nation blest,
Might hope to lift her Head above the rest.
What may be thought impossible to do
For us, embraced by the Sea and you?
Lords of the World's great Wast, the Ocean, we
Whole Forests send to Reign upon the Sea:
And every Coast may trouble and relieve,
But none can visit us without your leave.
Angels and we know this Prerogative,
That none can at our happy Seat arrive;
While we Descend at pleasure to invade
The bad with Vengeance, or the good to Aid;
Our little World, the Image of the great,
Like that amidst the boundless Ocean set,
Of her own growth has all that Nature craves,
And all that's Rare, as Tribute from the Waves.
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But to the Nile owes more than to the Sky;
So what our Heaven, or what our Earth denies,
Our ever constant Friend, the Sea supplies.
The Taste of hot Arabia's Spice we know,
Free from the scorching Sun that makes it grow.
Without the Worm in Persian Silks we shine,
And without Planting, Drink of every Vine.
To dig for Wealth we weary not our Limbs;
Gold, though the heaviest Metal, hither Swims.
Ours is the Harvest, where the Indians Mow;
We Plough the Deep, and Reap what others Sow;
Things of the noblest kind our own Soil breeds;
Stout are our Men, and Warlike are our Steeds;
Rome, though her Eagle through the World had flown,
Could never make this Island all her own.
Here the Third Edward, and the Black Prince too;
France-Conquering Henry flourisht, and now You.
For whom we staid, as did the Grecian State,
Till Alexander came to urge their Fate.
When for more Worlds that Macedonian cry'd,
He wist not Thetis in her Lap did hide
Another yet, a World reserv'd for you,
To make more great than that he did subdue.
He safely might Old Troops to Battel lead
Against the unwarlike Persian, or the Mede,
Whose hasty flight did from a bloodless Field
More Spoil than Honour to the Victor yield.
A Race unconquer'd by their Clime—made bold,
The Calydonians arm'd with want and cold,
Have by a Fate indulgent to your Fame,
Been from all Ages kept for you to tame:
Whom the old Roman Wall so ill confin'd,
With a new Chain of Garisons you bind.
Here Foreign Gold no more shall make them come,
Our English Iron holds them fast at home.
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No warmer Region than their Hills of Snow,
May blame the Sun, but must extol your Grace,
Which in our Senate hath allow'd them place.
Prefer'd by Conquest, happily o'rethrown;
Falling they rise, to be with us made one.
So kind Dictators made, when they came home,
Their vanquish'd Foes free Citizens of Rome.
Like favour find the Irish, with like Fate
Advanc'd to be a Portion of our State,
While by your Valour, and your courteous Mind,
Nations divided by the Sea, are joyn'd.
Holland to gain your Friendship, is content
To be our Out-guard on your Continent.
She from her fellow Provinces would go,
Rather than hazard to have you her Foe.
In our late Fight, when Cannons did diffuse
Preventing Posts, the terror of the News,
Our Neighbour-Provinces trembl'd at their roar,
But our conjunction makes them tremble more.
Your never-failing Sword made War to cease,
And now you heal us with the Arts of Peace;
Our Minds with bounty and with awe engage,
Unite Affections, and restrain our Rage.
Less pleasures take brave minds in Battel won,
Than in restoring such as are undone.
Tygers have courage, and the rugged Bear,
But Man alone can whom he conquers spare:
To pardon willing, and to punish loath,
You strike with one hand, but you heal with both.
Lifting up all that prostrate lye you grieve,
You cannot make the dead again to live.
When Fate or Error had our Age misled,
And o're these Nations such Confusion spread,
The only Cure which could from Heaven come down
Was so much Power and Clemency in one;
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Gives hope again that well-born Men may shine:
The meanest in your Nature, mild and good,
The noble rest secur'd in your Blood.
Oft have we wonder'd how you hid in Peace
A Mind proportion'd to such things as these:
How such a Ruling Spirit could restrain,
And practice first o're your own self to Reign.
Your private Life did a just Pattern give,
How Fathers, Husbands, Pious Sons should live.
Born to Command, your Princely Vertues slept
Like humble David, whilst the Flock he kept;
But when your troubled Country call'd you forth,
Your flaming Courage, and your matchless Worth
Dazling the Eyes of all that did pretend
To sow Contention—gave a prosperous end,
Still as you rise, the States exalted too,
Finds no Distemper while it's chang'd by you:
Chang'd like the World's great Scene, when without noise
The rising Sun Night's vulgar Lights destroys.
Had you some Ages past this Race of Glory
Run, with amazement we should read your Story.
But living Vertue all Atchievements past,
Meets Envy still to grapple with at last.
This Cæsar found, and that ungrateful Age
With losing him, fell back to Blood and Rage.
Mistaken Brutus thought to break their Yoak,
But cut the Bond of Union at that stroke.
That Sun once set, a thousand meaner Stars
Gave a dim light to Violence and Wars.
To such a Tempest as now threatens all,
Did not your mighty Arm prevent the fall.
If Rome's great Senate could not wield the Sword,
Which of the conquer'd World had made them Lord,
What hope had ours, while yet their power was new,
To Rule victorious Armies, but by you?
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Could Order teach, and all their Hearts compose.
To every Duty could their Minds engage,
Provoke their Courage, and commend their Rage.
So when a Lion shakes his dreadful Main,
And angry grows, if he that first took pain
To tame his Youth, approach the haughty Beast,
He bends to him, but frights away the rest.
As the vext World, to find repose at last,
It self into Augusta's Arms did cast.
So England now, does, with like Toyl opprest,
Her weary Head upon your Bosom rest.
Then let the Muses with such Notes as these,
Instruct us what belongs unto our Peace:
Your Battles they hereafter shall indite,
And draw the Image of our Mars in Fight;
Tell of Towns storm'd, of Armies over-run,
And mighty Kingdoms by your Conduct won:
How, while you Thunder'd, Clouds of Dust did choak
Contending Troops, and Seas lay hid in Smoak.
Illustrious Arts high raptures do infuse,
And every Conqueror creates a Muse.
Here in low strains your milder Deeds we Sing;
But there, my Lord, we'll Bays and Olives bring
To Crown your Head, while you in Triumph ride
O're vanquish'd Nations, and the Sea beside:
While all your Neighbour-Princes unto You,
Like Joseph's Sheaves, pay Reverence, and Bow.
| Poems on Affairs of State | |