CROMWELL, our chief of men, who through a cloud, Not of war only, but detractions rude, Guided by faith and matchless fortitude, To peace and truth thy glorious way hast ploughed, And on the neck of crowned fortune proud Hast reared God's trophies, and his work pursued, While Darwen stream, with blood of Scots inbued, And Dunbar field resounds thy praises loud, And Worcester's laureate wreath. Yet much re- mains To conquer still; Peace hath her victories No less renowned than War: new foes arise, Threatening to bind our souls with secular chains: Help us to save free conscience from the paw Of hireling wolves, whose gospel is their maw. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOMESDAY BOOK: LOVERIDGE CHASE by EDGAR LEE MASTERS A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 35 by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN EVENING CLOUDS by FRANCIS LEDWIDGE THE SHEPHEARDES CALENDER: NOVEMBER by EDMUND SPENSER THE GRAVE OF SHELLEY by OSCAR WILDE THE SLEEPING BEAUTY by MATHILDE BLIND OUT OF THE SILENCE by S. MINERVA BOYCE |