Though Justice against Fate complain, And plead the ancient rights in vain (But those do hold or break, As men are strong or weak), Nature, that hated emptiness, And therefore must make room What field of all the civil war, Where, twining subtile fears with hope, That Charles himself might chase That thence the royal actor borne While round the armed bands, But with his keener eye Nor called the gods with vulgar spite But bowed his comely head This was that memorable hour Which first assured the forcèd power: So, when they did design The Capitol's first line, A bleeding head, where they begun, And now the Irish are ashamed That doth both act and know. They can affirm his praises best, Nor yet grown stiffer with command, That can so well obey!), He to the Commons' feet presents His fame to make it theirs: And has his sword and spoils ungirt She, having killed, no more doth search What may not then our isle presume If thus he crowns each year? As Cæsar he, ere long, to Gaul, And to all states not free Shall climacteric be. The Pict no shelter now shall find Shrink underneath the plaid; Happy if in the tufted brake But thou, the war's and fortune's son, March indefatigably on, And for the last effect, Still keep the sword erect: Besides the force it has to fright XXII IN EXILE WHERE the remote Bermudas ride Safe from the storms and prelates' rage: He cast (of which we rather boast) Thus sang they in the English boat And all the way, to guide their chime, Marvell. XXIII ALEXANDER'S FEAST 'Twas at the royal feast for Persia won By Philip's warlike son: Aloft in awful state The godlike hero sate On his imperial throne; His valiant peers were placed around, Their brows with roses and with myrtles bound (So should desert in arms be crowned); The lovely Thais by his side Sate like a blooming Eastern bride In flower of youth and beauty's pride. None but the brave, None but the brave, None but the brave deserves the fair! |