<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=344354" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The First Anniversary Of The Government Under O.C.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Like the vain Curlings of the Watry maze,<br>Which in smooth streams a sinking Weight does raise;<br>So Man, declining alwayes, disappears.<br>In the Weak Circles of increasing Years;<br>And his short Tumults of themselves Compose,<br>While flowing Time above his Head does close.<br>Cromwell alone with greater Vigour runs,<br>(Sun-like) the Stages of succeeding Suns:<br>And still the Day which he doth next restore,<br>Is the just Wonder of the Day before.<br>Cromwell alone doth with new Lustre spring,<br>And shines the Jewel of the yearly Ring.<br>'Tis he the force of scatter'd Time contracts,<br>And in one Year the Work of Ages acts:<br>While heavy Monarchs make a wide Return,<br>Longer, and more Malignant then Saturn:<br>And though they all Platonique years should raign,<br>In the same Posture would be found again.<br>Their earthly Projects under ground they lay,<br>More slow and brittle then the China clay:<br>Well may they strive to leave them to their Son,<br>For one Thing never was by one King don.<br>Yet some more active for a Frontier Town<br>Took in by Proxie, beggs a false Renown;<br>Another triumphs at the publick Cost,<br>And will have Wonn, if he no more have Lost;<br>They fight by Others, but in Person wrong,<br>And only are against their Subjects strong;<br>Their other Wars seem but a feign'd contest,<br>This Common Enemy is still opprest;<br>If Conquerors, on them they turn their might;<br>If Conquered, on them they wreak their Spight:<br>They neither build the Temple in their dayes,<br>Nor Matter for succeeding Founders raise;<br>Nor Sacred Prophecies consult within,<br>Much less themselves to perfect them begin,<br>No other care they bear of things above,<br>But with Astrologers divine, and Jove,<br>To know how long their Planet yet Reprives<br>From the deserved Fate their guilty lives:<br>Thus (Image-like) and useless time they tell,<br>And with vain Scepter strike the hourly Bell;<br>Nor more contribute to the state of Things,<br>Then wooden Heads unto the Viols strings,<br>While indefatigable Cromwell hyes,<br>And cuts his way still nearer to the Skyes,<br>Learning a Musique in the Region clear,<br>To tune this lower to that higher Sphere.<br>So when Amphion did the Lute command,<br>Which the God gave him, with his gentle hand,<br>The rougher Stones, unto his Measures hew'd,<br>Dans'd up in order from the Quarreys rude;<br>This took a Lower, that an Higher place,<br>As he the Treble alter'd, or the Base:<br>No Note he struck, but a new Story lay'd,<br>And the great Work ascended while he play'd.<br>The listning Structures he with Wonder ey'd,<br>And still new Stopps to various Time apply'd:<br>Now through the Strings a Martial rage he throws,<br>And joyng streight the Theban Tow'r arose;<br>Then as he strokes them with a Touch more sweet,<br>The flocking Marbles in a Palace meet;<br>But, for he most the graver Notes did try,<br>Therefore the Temples rear'd their Columns high:<br>Thus, ere he ceas'd, his sacred Lute creates<br>Th'harmonious City of the seven Gates.<br>Such was that wondrous Order and Consent,<br>When Cromwell tun'd the ruling Instrument;<br>While tedious Statesmen many years did hack,<br>Framing a Liberty that still went back;<br>Whose num'rous Gorge could swallow in an hour<br>That Island, which the Sea cannot devour:<br>Then our Amphion issues out and sings,<br>And once he struck, and twice, the pow'rful Strings.<br>The Commonwealth then first together came,<br>And each one enter'd in the willing Frame;<br>All other Matter yields, and may be rul'd;<br>But who the Minds of stubborn Men can build?<br>No Quarry bears a Stone so hardly wrought,<br>Nor with such labour from its Center brought;<br>None to be sunk in the Foundation bends,<br>Each in the House the highest Place contends,<br>And each the Hand that lays him will direct,<br>And some fall back upon the Architect;<br>Yet all compos'd by his attractive Song,<br>Into the Animated City throng.<br>The Common-wealth does through their Centers all<br>Draw the Circumf'rence of the publique Wall;<br>The crossest Spirits here do take their part,<br>Fast'ning the Contignation which they thwart;<br>And they, whose Nature leads them to divide,<br>Uphold, this one, and that the other Side;<br>But the most Equal still sustein the Height,<br>And they as Pillars keep the Work upright;<br>While the resistance of opposed Minds,<br>The Fabrick as with Arches stronger binds,<br>Which on the Basis of a Senate free,<br>Knit by the Roofs Protecting weight agree.<br>When for his foot he thus a place had found,<br>He hurles e'r since the World about him round,<br>And in his sev'ral Aspects, like a Star,<br>Here shines in Peace, and thither shoots a War.<br>While by his Beams observing Princes steer,<br>And wisely court the Influence they fear,<br>O would they rather by his Pattern won.<br>Kiss the approaching, nor yet angry Son;<br>And in their numbred Footsteps humbly tread<br>The path where holy Oracles do lead;<br>How might they under such a Captain raise<br>The great Designs kept for the latter Dayes!<br>But mad with reason, so miscall'd, of State<br>They know them not, and what they know not, hate<br>Hence still they sing Hosanna to the Whore,<br>And her whom they should Massacre adore:<br>But Indians whom they should convert, subdue;<br>Nor teach, but traffique with, or burn the Jew.<br>Unhappy Princes, ignorantly bred,<br>By Malice some, by Errour more misled;<br>If gracious Heaven to my Life give length,<br>Leisure to Times, and to my Weakness Strength,<br>Then shall I once with graver Accents shake<br>Your Regal sloth, and your long Slumbers wake:<br>Like the shrill Huntsman that prevents the East,<br>Winding his Horn to Kings that chase the Beast.<br>Till then my Muse shall hollow far behind<br>Angelique Cromwell who outwings the wind;<br>And in dark Nights, and in cold Dayes alone<br>Pursues the Monster thorough every Throne:<br>Which shrinking to her Roman Den impure,<br>Gnashes her Goary teeth; nor there secure.<br>Hence oft I think, if in some happy Hour<br>High Grace should meet in one with highest Pow'r,<br>And then a seasonable People still<br>Should bend to his, as he to Heavens will,<br>What we might hope, what wonderful Effect<br>From such a wish'd Conjuncture might reflect.<br>Sure, the mysterious Work, where none withstand,<br>Would forthwith finish under such a Hand:<br>Fore-shortned Time its useless Course would stay,<br>And soon precipitate the latest Day.<br>But a thick Cloud about that Morning lyes,<br>And intercepts the Beams of Mortal eyes,<br>That 'tis the most which we deteremine can,<br>If these the Times, then this must be the Man.<br>And well he therefore does, and well has guest,<br>Who in his Age has always forward prest:<br>And knowing not where Heavens choice may light,<br>Girds yet his Sword, and ready stands to fight;<br>But Men alas, as if they nothing car'd,<br>Look on, all unconcern'd, or unprepar'd;<br>And Stars still fall, and still the Dragons Tail<br>Swinges the Volumes of its horrid Flail.<br>For the great Justice that did first suspend<br>The World by Sin, does by the same extend.<br>Hence that blest Day still counterpoysed wastes,<br>The ill delaying, what th'Elected hastes;<br>Hence landing Nature to new Seas it tost,<br>And good Designes still with their Authors lost.<br>And thou, great Cromwell, for whose happy birth<br>A Mold was chosen out of better Earth;<br>Whose Saint-like Mother we did lately see<br>Live out an Age, long as a Pedigree;<br>That she might seem, could we the Fall dispute,<br>T'have smelt the Blossome, and not eat the Fruit;<br>Though none does of more lasting Parents grow,<br>But never any did them Honor so;<br>Though thou thine Heart from Evil still unstain'd,<br>And always hast thy Tongue from fraud refrain'd,<br>Thou, who so oft through Storms of thundring Lead<br>Hast born securely thine undaunted Head,<br>Thy Brest through ponyarding Conspiracies,<br>Drawn from the Sheath of lying Prophecies;<br>Thee proof beyond all other Force or Skill,<br>Our Sins endanger, and shall one day kill.<br>How near they fail'd, and in thy sudden Fall<br>At once assay'd to overturn us all.<br>Our brutish fury strugling to be Free,<br>Hurry'd thy Horses while they hurry'd thee.<br>When thou hadst almost quit thy Mortal cares,<br>And soyl'd in Dust thy Crown of silver Hairs.<br>Let this one Sorrow interweave among<br>The other Glories of our yearly Song.<br>Like skilful Looms which through the costly threed<br>Of purling Ore, a shining wave do shed:<br>So shall the Tears we on past Grief employ,<br>Still as they trickle, glitter in our Joy.<br>So with more Modesty we may be True,<br>And speak as of the Dead the Praises due:<br>While impious Men deceiv'd with pleasure short,<br>On their own Hopes shall find the Fall retort.<br>But the poor Beasts wanting their noble Guide,<br>What could they move? shrunk guiltily aside.<br>First winged Fear transports them far away,<br>And leaden Sorrow then their flight did stay.<br>See how they each his towring Crest abate,<br>And the green Grass, and their known Mangers hate,<br>Nor through wide Nostrils snuffe the wanton air,<br>Nor their round Hoofs, or curled Mane'scompare;<br>With wandring Eyes, and restless Ears theystood,<br>And with shrill Neighings ask'd him of the Wood.<br>Thou Cromwell falling, not a stupid Tree,<br>Or Rock so savage, but it mourn'd for thee:<br>And all about was heard a Panique groan,<br>As if that Natures self were overthrown.<br>It seem'd the Earth did from the Center tear;<br>It seem'd the Sun was faln out of the Sphere:<br>Justice obstructed lay, and Reason fool'd;<br>Courage disheartned, and Religion cool'd.<br>A dismal Silence through the Palace went,<br>And then loud Shreeks the vaulted Marbles rent.<br>Such as the dying Chorus sings by turns,<br>And to deaf Seas, and ruthless Tempests mourns,<br>When now they sink, and now the plundring Streams<br>Break up each Deck, and rip the Oaken seams.<br>But thee triumphant hence the firy Carr,<br>And firy Steeds had born out of the Warr,<br>From the low World, and thankless Men above,<br>Unto the Kingdom blest of Peace and Love:<br>We only mourn'd our selves, in thine Ascent,<br>Whom thou hadst lest beneath with Mantle rent.<br>For all delight of Life thou then didst lose,<br>When to Command, thou didst thy self Depose;<br>Resigning up thy Privacy so dear,<br>To turn the headstrong Peoples Charioteer;<br>For to be Cromwell was a greater thing,<br>Then ought below, or yet above a King:<br>Therefore thou rather didst thy Self depress,<br>Yielding to Rule, because it made thee Less.<br>For, neither didst thou from the first apply<br>Thy sober Spirit unto things too High,<br>But in thine own Fields exercisedst long,<br>An Healthful Mind within a Body strong;<br>Till at the Seventh time thou in the Skyes,<br>As a small Cloud, like a Mans hand didst rise;<br>Then did thick Mists and Winds the air deform,<br>And down at last thou pow'rdst the fertile Storm;<br>Which to the thirsty Land did plenty bring,<br>But though forewarn'd, o'r-took and wet the King.<br>What since he did, an higher Force him push'd<br>Still from behind, and it before him rush'd,<br>Though undiscern'd among the tumult blind,<br>Who think those high Decrees by Man design'd.<br>'Twas Heav'n would not that his Pow'r should cease,<br>But walk still middle betwixt War and Peace;<br>Choosing each Stone, and poysing every weight,<br>Trying the Measures of the Bredth and Height;<br>Here pulling down, and there erecting New,<br>Founding a firm State by Proportions true.<br>When Gideon so did from the War retreat,<br>Yet by Conquest of two Kings grown great,<br>He on the Peace extends a Warlike power,<br>And Is'rel silent saw him rase the Tow'r;<br>And how he Succoths Elders durst suppress,<br>With Thorns and Briars of the Wilderness.<br>No King might ever such a Force have done;<br>Yet would not he be Lord, nor yet his Son.<br>Thou with the same strength, and an Heart as plain,<br>Didst (like thine Olive) still refuse to Reign;<br>Though why should others all thy Labor spoil,<br>And Brambles be anointed with thine Oyl,<br>Whose climbing Flame, without a timely stop,<br>Had quickly Levell'd every Cedar's top.<br>Therefore first growing to thy self a Law,<br>Th'ambitious Shrubs thou in just time didst aw.<br>So have I seen at Sea, when whirling Winds,<br>Hurry the Bark, but more the Seamens minds,<br>Who with mistaken Course salute the Sand,<br>And threat'ning Rocks misapprehend for Land;<br>While baleful Tritons to the shipwrack guide.<br>And Corposants along the Tacklings slide.<br>The Passengers all wearyed out before,<br>Giddy, and wishing for the fatal Shore;<br>Some lusty Mate, who with more careful Eye<br>Counted the Hours, and ev'ry Star did spy,<br>The Helm does from the artless Steersman strain,<br>And doubles back unto the safer Main.<br>What though a while they grumble discontent,<br>Saving himself he does their loss prevent.<br>'Tis not a Freedome, that where All command;<br>Nor Tyranny, where One does them withstand:<br>But who of both the Bounders knows to lay<br>Him as their Father must the State obey.<br>Thou, and thine House, like Noah's Eight did rest,<br>Left by the Wars Flood on the Mountains crest:<br>And the large Vale lay subject to thy Will,<br>Which thou but as an Husbandman would Till:<br>And only didst for others plant the Vine<br>Of Liberty, not drunken with its Wine.<br>That sober Liberty which men may have,<br>That they enjoy, but more they vainly crave:<br>And such as to their Parents Tents do press,<br>May shew their own, not see his Nakedness.<br>Yet such a Chammish issue still does rage,<br>The Shame and Plague both of the Land and Age,<br>Who watch'd thy halting, and thy Fall deride,<br>Rejoycing when thy Foot had slipt aside;<br>that their new King might the fifth Scepter shake,<br>And make the World, by his Example, Quake:<br>Whose frantique Army should they want for Men<br>Might muster Heresies, so one were ten.<br>What thy Misfortune, they the Spirit call,<br>And their Religion only is to Fall.<br>Oh Mahomet! now couldst thou rise again,<br>Thy Falling-sickness should have made thee Reign,<br>While Feake and Simpson would in many a Tome,<br>Have writ the Comments of thy sacred Foame:<br>For soon thou mightst have past among their Rant<br>Wer't but for thine unmoved Tulipant;<br>As thou must needs have own'd them of thy band<br>For prophecies fit to be Alcorand.<br>Accursed Locusts, whom your King does spit<br>Out of the Center of th'unbottom'd Pit;<br>Wand'rers, Adult'rers, Lyers, Munser's rest,<br>Sorcerers, Atheists, Jesuites, Possest;<br>You who the Scriptures and the Laws deface<br>With the same liberty as Points and Lace;<br>Oh Race most hypocritically strict!<br>Bent to reduce us to the ancient Pict;<br>Well may you act the Adam and the Eve;<br>Ay, and the Serpent too that did deceive.<br>But the great Captain, now the danger's ore,<br>Makes you for his sake Tremble one fit more;<br>And, to your spight, returning yet alive<br>Does with himself all that is good revive.<br>So when first Man did through the Morning new<br>See the bright Sun his shining Race pursue,<br>All day he follow'd with unwearied sight,<br>Pleas'd with that other World of moving Light;<br>But thought him when he miss'd his setting beams,<br>Sunk in the Hills, or plung'd below the Streams.<br>While dismal blacks hung round the Universe,<br>And Stars (like Tapers) burn'd upon his Herse:<br>And Owls and Ravens with their screeching noyse<br>Did make the Fun'rals sadder by their Joyes.<br>His weeping Eyes the doleful Vigils keep,<br>Not knowing yet the Night was made for sleep:<br>Still to the West, where he him lost, he turn'd,<br>And with such accents, as Despairing, mourn'd:<br>Why did mine Eyes once see so bright a Ray;<br>Or why Day last no longer than a Day?<br>When streight the Sun behind him he descry'd,<br>Smiling serenely from the further side.<br>So while our Star that gives us Light and Heat,<br>Seem'd now a long and gloomy Night to threat,<br>Up from the other World his Flame he darts,<br>And Princes shining through their windows starts;<br>Who their suspected Counsellors refuse,<br>And credulous Ambassadors accuse.<br>&quot;Is this, saith one, the Nation that we read<br>&quot;Spent with both Wars, under a Captain dead?<br>&quot;Yet rig a Navy while we dress us late;<br>&quot;And ere we Dine, rase and rebuild our State.<br>&quot;What Oaken Forrests, and what golden Mines!<br>&quot;What Mints of Men, what Union of Designes!<br>&quot;Unless their Ships, do, as their Fowle proceed<br>&quot;Of shedding Leaves, that with their Ocean breed.<br>&quot;Theirs are not Ships, but rather Arks of War,<br>&quot;And beaked Promontories sail'd from far;<br>&quot;Of floting Islands a new Hatched Nest;<br>&quot;A Fleet of Worlds, of other Worlds in quest;<br>&quot;An hideous shole of wood Leviathans,<br>&quot;Arm'd with three Tire of brazen Hurricans;<br>&quot;That through the Center shoot their thundring side<br>&quot;And sink the Earth that does at Anchor ride.<br>'What refuge to escape them can be found,<br>&quot;Whose watry Leaguers all the world surround?<br>&quot;Needs must we all their Tributaries be,<br>&quot;Whose Navies hold the Sluces of the Sea.<br>&quot;The Ocean is the Fountain of Command,<br>&quot;But that once took, we Captives are on Land:<br>&quot;And those that have the Waters for their share,<br>&quot;Can quickly leave us neither Earth nor Air.<br>&quot;Yet if through these our Fears could find a pass;<br>&quot;Through double Oak, & lin'd with treble Brass;<br>&quot;That one Man still, although but nam'd, alarms<br>&quot;More then all Men, all Navies, and all Arms.<br>&quot;Him, all the Day, Him, in late Nights I dread,<br>&quot;And still his Sword seems hanging o're my head.<br>&quot;The Nation had been ours, but his one Soul<br>&quot;Moves the great Bulk, and animates the whole.<br>&quot;He Secrecy with Number hath inchas'd,<br>&quot;Courage with Age, Maturity with Hast:<br>&quot;The Valiants Terror, Riddle of the Wise;<br>&quot;And still his Fauchion all our Knots unties.<br>&quot;Where did he learn those Arts that cost us dear?<br>&quot;Where below Earth, or where above the Sphere?<br>&quot;He seems a King by long Succession born,<br>&quot;And yet the same to be a King does scorn.<br>&quot;Abroad a King he seems, and something more,<br>&quot;At Home a Subject on the equal Floor.<br>&quot;O could I once him with our Title see,<br>&quot;So should I hope yet he might Dye as wee.<br>&quot;But let them write his Praise that love him best,<br>&quot;It grieves me sore to have thus much confest.<br>&quot;Pardon, great Prince, if thus their Fear or Spight<br>&quot;More then our Love and Duty do thee Right.<br>&quot;I yield, nor further will the Prize contend;<br>&quot;So that we both alike may miss our End:<br>&quot;While thou thy venerable Head dost raise<br>&quot;As far above their Malice as my Praise.<br>&quot;And as the Angel of our Commonweal,<br>&quot;Troubling the Waters, yearly mak'st them Heal.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Andrew+Marvell">Andrew Marvell</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=344354" data-title="The First Anniversary Of The Government Under O.C. de Andrew Marvell" data-description="Like the vain Curlings of the Watry maze, Which in smooth streams a sinking Weight does raise; So Man, declining alwayes, disappears. In the Weak Circles of increasing Years; And his short Tumults of themselves Compose, While flowing Time above hi..."></div> </div> </div>

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