Nor in the shadows sing
His numbers languishing :
'Tis time to leave the books in dusty
And oil the unused armour's rust,
Removing from the wall
The corselet of the hall.
His numbers languishing :
'Tis time to leave the books in dusty
And oil the unused armour's rust,
Removing from the wall
The corselet of the hall.
Marvell - Poems
Knows the last secret, how to make us one.
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OP MARYELL. 133
Just SO the prudent husbandman, that sees
The idle tumult of his factious bees,
The morning dews, and flowers, neglected grown,
The hive a comb-case, every bee a drone,
Powders them o'er, till none discerns his foes,
And all themselves in meal and friendship lose ;
The insect kingdom straight begins to thrive.
And all work honey for the common hive.
Pardon, young hero, this so long transport.
Thy death more noble did the same extort.
My former satire for this verse forget,
My fault against my recantation set
I single did against a nation write.
Against a nation thou didst singly fight.
My differing crimes do more thy virtue raise.
And, such my rashness, best thy valour praise.
Here Douglas smiling said, he did intend,
Afler such frankness shown, to be his friend.
Forewarned him therefore, lest in time he were
Metempsychos'd to some Scotch Presbyter.
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134 THE POEMS
A HORATIAN ODE
UPON CROMWELL'S RETURN FROM IRELAND.
The forward youth that woald appear.
Must now forsake his muses dear.
Nor in the shadows sing
His numbers languishing :
'Tis time to leave the books in dusty
And oil the unused armour's rust,
Removing from the wall
The corselet of the hall.
So restless Cromwell could not cease
In the inglorious arts of peace,
But through adventurous war
Urged his active star ;
And, like the three-forked lightning, first
Breaking the clouds where it was nurst,
Did thorough his own side
His fiery way divide ;
(For 'tis all one to courage high,
The emulous, or enemy,
And with such to inclose,
Is more than to oppose ;)
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OF MARVELL.
Then burning througli the air he went,
And palaces and temples rent ;
And Caesar's head at last
Did through his laurels blast.
'Tis madness to resist or blame
The force of angry heaven's flame ;
And if we would speak true,
Much to the man is due,
Who from his private gardens, where
He lived reserved and austere,
As if his highest plot
To plant the bergamot,
Could bj industrious valour climb
To ruin the great work of Time,
And cast the kingdoms old.
Into another mould.
Though Justice against Fate complain,
And plead the ancient rights in vain,
[But those do hold or break,
As men are strong or weak,]
Nature, that hateth emptiness.
Allows of penetration less,
And therefore must make room
Where greater spirits comtj.
What field of all the civil war.
Where his were not the deepest scar ?
And Hampton shows what part
He had of wiser art ;
Where, twining subtile feai*s with hope,
He wove a net of such a scope
13. 5
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13G THK POKMS
That Charles himself might chase
To Carisbrook s narrow cjisc,
That thence the royal actor borne,
The tragic scaffold might adorn,
While round the armed bands.
Did clap their bloody hands :
He nothing common did, or mean,
Upon that memorable scene.
But with his keener eye
The axe's edge did try ;
Nor called the gods with vulgar spite
To vindicate his helpless right,
But bowed his comely head
Down, as upon a bed.
This was that memorable hour.
Which first assured the forced power ;
So, when they did design
The . Capitol's first line,
A bleeding bead, where they begun,
Did fright the architects to run ;
And yet in that the state
Foresaw its happy fate.