Page:Three Poems upon the death of the late Usurper Oliver Cromwell (1682).djvu/26



Before thy name was publish't, and whilst yet Thou only to thy self wert great; Whilst yet thy happy Bud Was not quite seen, or understood; It then sure signs of future greatness shew'd; Then thy domestick worth Did tell the World, what it would be When it should fit occasion see, When a full Spring should call it forth. As bodies, in the Dark and Night, Have the same Colours, the same Red and VVhite, As in the open day and Light; The Sun doth only show That they are bright, not make them so: So whilst, but private Walls did know What we to such a Mighty mind should owe: Then the same vertues did appear Though in a less, and more Contracted Sphear; As full, though not as large as since they were. And like great Rivers, Fountains, though At first so deep, thou didst not go; Though then thine was not so inlarg'd a flood Yet when 'twas Little, 'twas as clear as good.

'Tis true, thou wast not born unto a Crown, The Scepter's not thy Fathers, but thy own. Thy Purple was not made at once in haste, But after many other colours past, It took the deepest Princely Dye at last. Rh