Page:Three Poems upon the death of the late Usurper Oliver Cromwell (1682).djvu/35



Nor didst thou only for thy Age provide, But for the years to come beside, Our after-times, and late posterity Shall pay unto thy Fame, as much as we; They too, are made by thee. When Fate did call thee to a higher Throne, And when thy Mortal work was done, When Heaven did say it, and thou must be gon: Thou him to bear thy burthen chose, Who might (if any could) make us forget thy loss: Nor hadst thou him design'd, Had he not been Not only to thy Blood, but Vertue Kin; Not only Heir unto thy Throne, but Mind. 'Tis He shall perfect all thy Cures And, with as fine a Thread, weave out thy Loom. So, One did bring the Chosen people from Their Slavery and Fears, Led them through their Pathless Road, Guided himself by God, He brought them to the Borders: but a Second hand Did settle and Secure them, in the Promis'd Land. Rh