In all his wars, needs must he triumph, when
He conquer'd God still ere he fought with men :
Hence, though in battle none so brave or fierce,
Yet him the adverse steel could never pierce;
Pity it seem'd to hurt him more, that felt
Each wound himself which he to others dealt,
Danger itself refusing to offend
So loose an enemy, so fast a friend.
Friendship, that sacred virtue, long does claim
The first foundation of his house and name:
But within one its narrow limits fall,
His tenderness extended unto all,
And that deep soul through every channel flows,
Where kindly Nature loves itself to lose.
More strong affections never reason served,
Yet still affected most what best deserved.
If he Eliza loved to that degree,
(Though who more worthy to be loved than she?)
If so indulgent to his own, how dear
To him the children of the Highest were!
For her he once did Nature's tribute pay;
For these his life adventured every day :
And 'twould be found, could we his thoughts have cast, Their griefs struck deepest, if Eliza's last.
What prudence more than human did he need
To keep so dear, so differing minds agreed?
The worser sort, so conscious of their ill,
Lie weak and easy to the ruler's will;
But to the good (too many or too few)
All law is useless, all reward is due.
Ah! ill-advised, if not for love, for shame,
Spare yet your own, if you neglect his fame;
Lest others dare to think your zeal a mask,
And you to govern only Heaven's task.
Valour, Religion, Friendship, Prudence died
At once with him, and all that's good beside;
And we, Death's refuge, Nature's dregs, confined
To loathsome life, alas! are left behind.
Where we (so once we used) shall now no more,
To fetch day, press about his chamber-door,
From which he issued with that awful state,
It seem'd Mars broke through Janus' double gate,
Yet always temper'd with an air so mild,
No April suns that e'er so gently smiled;
No more shall hear that powerful language charm,
Whose force oft spared the labour of his arm;
No more shall follow where he spent the days
In war, in counsel, or in prayer and praise,
Whose meanest acts he would himself advance,
As ungirt David to the ark did dance.
All, all is gone of ours or his delight
In horses fierce, wild deer, or armour bright;
Francisca fair can nothing now but weep,
Nor with soft notes shall sing his cares asleep.
I saw him dead: a leaden slumber lies, And mortal sleep over those wakeful eyes; Those gentle rays under the lids were fled,
Which through his looks that piercing sweetness shed;
That port, which so majestic was and strong,
Loose, and deprived of vigour, stretch'd along;
All wither'd, all discolour'd, pale and wan,
How much another thing; no more that Man!
O, human glory vain, O, Death, O, wings!
O, worthless world, O, transitory things!
Yet dwelt that greatness in his shape decay'd,
That still, though dead, greater than death he laid;
And in his alter'd face you something feign
That threatens death he yet will live again.
Not much unlike the sacred oak, which shoots
To heaven its branches, and through earth its roots,
Whose spacious boughs are hung with trophies round,
And honour'd wreaths have oft the victor crown'd;
When angry Jove darts lightning through the air
At mortal sins, nor his own plant will spare,
It groans and bruises all below, that stood
many years the shelter of the wood,
The tree, erewhile foreshorten'd to our view,
When fall'n shows taller yet than as it grew.
So shall his praise to after times increase,
When truth shall be allow'd, and faction cease.
And his own shadows with him fall; the eye
Detracts from objects than itself more high;
But when Death takes them from that envied state,-
Seeing how little, we confess how great.
Thee, many ages hence, in martial verse
Shall the English soldier, ere he charge, rehearse;
Singing of thee, inflame himself to fight,
And, with the name of Cromwell, armies fright.
As long as rivers to the seas shall run,
As long as Cynthia shall relieve the sun,
While stags shall fly unto the forests thick,
While sheep delight the grassy downs to pick,
As long as future time succeeds the past,
Always thy honour, praise, and name shall last! [38 .
HEN plate was at pawn, and fob at an ebb,
And spider might weave in bowels its web,
And stomach as empty as brain ;
Then Charles without acre,
Did swear by his Maker,
If e'er I see England again,
I'll have a religion all of my own,
Whether Popish or Protestant shall not be known;
And if it prove troublesome, I will have none.
I'll have a long parliament always to friend,
And furnish my treasure as fast as I spend,
And if they will not, they shall have an end.
My insolent brother shall bear all the sway;
If parliaments murmur, I'll send him away,
And call him again as soon as I may.
The ancient nobility I will lay by,
And new ones create their rooms to supply,
And they shall raise fortunes for my own fry.
Some one I'll advance from a common descent,
So high that he shall hector the parliament,
And all wholesome laws for the public prevent,
And I will assert him to such a degree
That all his foul treasons, though daring and high,
Under my hand and seal shall have indemnity.
I'll wholly abandon all public affairs,
And pass all my time with buffoons and players,
And saunter to Nelly when I should be at prayers.
I'll have a fine pond with a pretty decoy,
Where many strange fowl shall feed and enjoy,
And still in their language quack Vive le Roy!
Andrew Marvell.
THE CONTENTED MAN'S MORRICE.
(From Speculum Speculativum, 1660.)
HESE words in youth my motto were,
And mine in age I'll make them,
I neither Have, nor Want, nor Care;
When also first I spake them,
I thought things would be as they are,
And meekly, therefore, take them.
The riches I possess this day
Are no such goods of fortune As king can give or take away, Or tyrants make uncertain; For hid within myself they are, Behind an unseen curtain.
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