Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918.djvu/425

 ANDREW MARVELL

So restless Cromwell could not cease In the inglorious arts of peace,

But through adventurous war

Urged his active star:

And like the three-fork'd 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 enclose

Is more than to oppose.

Then burning through the air he went

And palaces and temples rent; And Caesar's head at last Did through his laurels blast.

The face of angry Heaven's flame;
 * Tis madness to resist or blame

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 by industrious valour climb To ruin the great work of time,

And cast the Kingdoms old

Into another mould;

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