Heroic Stanzas
CONSECRATED TO THE GLORIOUS MEMORY OF HIS MOST SERENE AND RENOWN'D HIGHNESS OLIVER, LATE LORD PROTECTOR OF THIS COMMONWEALTH, &C. WRITTEN AFTER THE CELEBRATION OF HIS FUNERAL
I
And now 'tis time; for their officious haste,
Who would before have borne him to the sky,
Like eager Romans, ere all rites were past,
Did let too soon the sacred eagle fly.
II
Tho' our best notes are treason to his fame,
Join'd with the loud applause of public voice;
Since Heav'n, what praise we offer to his name,
Hath render'd too authentic by its choice.
III
Tho' 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 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.
V
How shall I then begin, or where conclude,
To draw a fame so truly circular?
For in a round what order can be shew'd,
Where all the parts so equal-perfect are?
VI
His grandeur he deriv'd from heav'n alone;
For he was great ere fortune made him so:
And wars, like mists that rise against the sun,
Made him but greater seem, 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, soon as born,
With the too early thoughts of being king.
VIII
Fortune (that easy mistress of the young,
But to her ancient servants coy and hard)
Him, at that age, her favorites 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 chiefs, 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:
We inward bled, whilst they prolong'd our pain;
He fought to end our fighting, and assay'd
To stanch the blood by breathing of the vein.
XIII
Swift and resistless thro' the land he pass'd,
Like that bold Greek who did the East subdue,
And made to battles such heroic haste,
As if on wings of victory he flew.
XIV
He fought secure of fortune as of fame;
Till, by new maps, the island might be shown,
Of conquests, which he strew'd where'er he came,
Thick as the galaxy with stars is sown.
XV
His palms, tho' under weights they did not stand,
Still thriv'd; no winter could his laurels fade:
Heav'n in his portrait shew'd a workman's hand,
And drew it perfect, yet without a shade.
XVI
Peace was the prize of all his toils and care,
Which war had banish'd, and did now restore:
Bologna's walls thus mounted in the air,
To seat themselves more surely then 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 sbine
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 count'nance did imprint an awe;
And naturally all souls to his did bow,
As wands of divination downward draw,
And point to beds where sov'reign gold doth grow.
XX
When past all offerings to Feretrian Jove,
He Mars depos'd, and arms to gowns made yield;
Successful counsels 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, thro' 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 Frenchman's cause embrac'd,
Than the light Mounsire the grave Don outweigh'd:
His fortune turn'd the scale where it was cast;
Tho' Indian mines were in the other laid.
XXIV
When absent, yet we conquer'd in his right:
For tho' some meaner artist's skill were shown
In mingling colors, 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 alloy he knew,
And, as the confident of Nature, saw
How she complexions did divide and brew.
XXVI
Or he their single virtues did survey,
By intuition, in his own large breast,
Where all the rich ideas of them lay,
That were the rule and measure to the rest.
XXVII
When such heroic virtue Heav'n sets 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 ascand.
XXIX
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.
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,
Altho' 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 above
The highest acts it could produce to show:
Thus poor mechanic arts in public 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:
He seem'd but to prevent some new success,
As if above what triumphs earth could give.
XXXIV
His latest victories still thickest came,
As near the center motion does 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 watery 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 show
How strangely high endeavors may be blest,
Where piety and valor jointly go.
I
And now 'tis time; for their officious haste,
Who would before have borne him to the sky,
Like eager Romans, ere all rites were past,
Did let too soon the sacred eagle fly.
II
Tho' our best notes are treason to his fame,
Join'd with the loud applause of public voice;
Since Heav'n, what praise we offer to his name,
Hath render'd too authentic by its choice.
III
Tho' 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 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.
V
How shall I then begin, or where conclude,
To draw a fame so truly circular?
For in a round what order can be shew'd,
Where all the parts so equal-perfect are?
VI
His grandeur he deriv'd from heav'n alone;
For he was great ere fortune made him so:
And wars, like mists that rise against the sun,
Made him but greater seem, 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, soon as born,
With the too early thoughts of being king.
VIII
Fortune (that easy mistress of the young,
But to her ancient servants coy and hard)
Him, at that age, her favorites 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 chiefs, 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:
We inward bled, whilst they prolong'd our pain;
He fought to end our fighting, and assay'd
To stanch the blood by breathing of the vein.
XIII
Swift and resistless thro' the land he pass'd,
Like that bold Greek who did the East subdue,
And made to battles such heroic haste,
As if on wings of victory he flew.
XIV
He fought secure of fortune as of fame;
Till, by new maps, the island might be shown,
Of conquests, which he strew'd where'er he came,
Thick as the galaxy with stars is sown.
XV
His palms, tho' under weights they did not stand,
Still thriv'd; no winter could his laurels fade:
Heav'n in his portrait shew'd a workman's hand,
And drew it perfect, yet without a shade.
XVI
Peace was the prize of all his toils and care,
Which war had banish'd, and did now restore:
Bologna's walls thus mounted in the air,
To seat themselves more surely then 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 sbine
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 count'nance did imprint an awe;
And naturally all souls to his did bow,
As wands of divination downward draw,
And point to beds where sov'reign gold doth grow.
XX
When past all offerings to Feretrian Jove,
He Mars depos'd, and arms to gowns made yield;
Successful counsels 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, thro' 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 Frenchman's cause embrac'd,
Than the light Mounsire the grave Don outweigh'd:
His fortune turn'd the scale where it was cast;
Tho' Indian mines were in the other laid.
XXIV
When absent, yet we conquer'd in his right:
For tho' some meaner artist's skill were shown
In mingling colors, 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 alloy he knew,
And, as the confident of Nature, saw
How she complexions did divide and brew.
XXVI
Or he their single virtues did survey,
By intuition, in his own large breast,
Where all the rich ideas of them lay,
That were the rule and measure to the rest.
XXVII
When such heroic virtue Heav'n sets 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 ascand.
XXIX
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.
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,
Altho' 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 above
The highest acts it could produce to show:
Thus poor mechanic arts in public 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:
He seem'd but to prevent some new success,
As if above what triumphs earth could give.
XXXIV
His latest victories still thickest came,
As near the center motion does 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 watery 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 show
How strangely high endeavors may be blest,
Where piety and valor jointly go.
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