Page:Three Poems upon the death of the late Usurper Oliver Cromwell (1682).djvu/15

 Our former CheifsChiefs [sic] like sticklers of the War. First sought t'inflame the Parties, then to poise; The qnarrelquarrel [sic] lov'd, but did the cause abhor, And did not strike to hurt but make a noise. War our consumption was their gainful trade, VVe inward bled whilst they prolong'd our pain: He fought to end our fighting, and assaid To stanch the Blood by breathing of the vein. Swift and resistless through the Land he past, Like that bold Greek who did the East subdue; And made to BattelsBattles [sic] such Heroick hast As if on wings of Victory he flew He fought secure of fortune as of fame, Till by new Maps the Island might be shown, Of Conquests which he strew'd where e're he came, Thick as the Galaxy with Stars is sown. His Palms though under weights they did not stand, Still thriv'd; no Winter could his Laurels fade; Heav'n in his Portraict shew'd a VVorkman's hand And drew it perfect yet without a shade. Peace was the Prize of all his toyls and care, Which VVar had banifh't, and did now restore; Bolognia's VVall thus mounted in the Air, To Seat themselves more surely than before. Her safty rescued, Ireland to him owes, And Treacherous Scotland to no int'rest true, Rh