ANDREW MARVELL
1621-1678
355. An Horatian Ode
upon Cromwell's Return from Ireland
The forward youth that would appear
Must now forsake his Muses dear,
Nor in the shadows sing
His numbers languishing.
'Tis time to leave the books in dust,
And oil the unused armour's rust,
Removing from the wall
The corslet of the hall.
So restless Cromwell could not cease
In the inglorious arts of peace,
But through adventurous war
Urgèd 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 Cæsar's head at last
Did through his laurels blast.
