'TIS he the force of
scattered
time contracts.
Marvell - Poems
What may not others fear,
If thus he crowns each year ?
As Cffisar, he, ere long, to Gaul,
To Italy a Hannibal,
And to all states not free,
Shall climacteric be.
The Pict no shelter now shall find
Within his party-coloured mind.
But, from this valour sad,
Shrink underneath the plaid ;
Happy, if in the tuAed brake,
The English hunter him mistake.
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138 THE POEMS
Nor lay his hounds in near
The Caledonian deer.
But thou, the war's and fortune's son,
March indefatigably on,
And for the last effect.
Still keep the sword erect ;
Beside the force it has to fright
The spirits of the shady night.
The same arts that did gain
A power, must it maintain.
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OP MARVELL. 139
THE FIRST ANNIVERSARY
OF
THB GOVSRNBCKNT UNDRR HIS HIGHKESS
THE LORD PROTECTOR.
Like the vain curlings of the watery maze,
Which in smooth streams a sinking weight doth
raise,
So man, declining, always disappears
In the weak circles of increasing years ;
And his short tumults of themselves compose.
While flowing time above his head doth close.
Cromwell alone, with greater vigour runs
(Sun-like) the stages of succeeding suns,
And still the day which he doth next restore.
Is the just wonder of the day before ;
Cromwell alone doth with new lustre spring.
And shines the jewel of the yearly ring.
'TIS he the force of scattered time contracts.
And in one year the work of ages acts ;
While heavy monarchs make a wide retprn.
Longer and more malignant than Saturn,
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140 THE POEMS
And they, though all Platonic years should
reign,
In the same posture would be found again ;
Their earthly projects under ground they lay,
More slow and brittle than the China clay ;
Well may they strive to leave them on their
son,
For one thing never was by one king done.
Yet some, more active, for a fix^ntier town
Took in by proxy, begs a false renown ;
Another triuraplis at the public cost,
And will have won, if he no more have lost ;
They fight by others, but in person wrong,
And only are against their subjects strong ;
Their other wars are but a feigned contest.
This common enemy is still opprest ;
If conquerors, on them they turn their might,
If conquered, on them they wreak their spite ;
They neither build the temple in their days.
Nor matter for succeeding founders raise ;
Nor sacred prophecies consult within.
Much less themselves to perfect them begin ;
No other care they bear of things above,
But with astrologers, divine of Jove,
To know how long their planet yet reprieves
From the deserved fate their guilty lives.
Thus (image-like) a useless time they tell.
And with vain sceptre strike the hourly bell.
Nor more contribute to the state of things,
Than wooden heads unto the vioFs strings,
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OF MARVKLL. 141
While indefatigable Cromwell tries,
And cuts his way $till nearer to the skies,
Learning a music in the region clear,
To tune this lower to that higher sphere^
So when Amphion did the lute command,
Which the God gave him, with his gentle hand,.
The rougher stones, unto his measures hew^cd.
Danced up in order from the quarries rude 'r
This took a lower, that a higher place,.
As he the treble altered, or the base ;
No note he struck, but a new story laid.
And the great work ascended while he played-
The listening structures he with wonder eyed,.
And still new stops to various time applied ;
Now through the strings a martial rage he
throws,
And joining, straight the Theban tower arose ;
Then as he strokes them with a touch more
sweet,
The flocking marbles in a palace meet ;
But for he most the graver notes did try,
Therefore the temples reared their columns high :
Thus, ere he ceased, his sacred lute creates
The harmonious city of the seven gates.
