Page:The Works of Abraham Cowley - volume 1 (ed. Aikin) (1806).djvu/238

And trust that sea, where she can hardly say
She 'as known these twenty years one calmy day?
Ah! mild and gall-less dove,
Which dost the pure and candid dwellings love,
Canst thou in Albion still delight?
Still canst thou think it white?
Will ever fair Religion appear
In these deformed ruins? will she clear
Th' Augean stables of her churches here?
Will Justice hazard to be seen
Where a High Court of Justice e'er has been?
Will not the tragick scene,
And Bradshaw's bloody ghost, affright her there,
Her, who shall never fear?
Then may Whitehall for Charles's seat be fit,
If Justice shall endure at Westminster to sit.

Of all, methinks, we least should see
The cheerful looks again of Liberty.
That name of Cromwell, which does freshly still
The curses of so many sufferers fill,
Is still enough to make her stay,
And jealous for a while remain,
Lest, as a tempest carried him away,
Some hurricane should bring him back again.
Or, she might justher be afraid
Lest that great serpent, which was all a tail
(And in his poisonous folds whole nations prisoners made),
Should a third time perhaps prevail