[1]

A

DISCOURSE,

By way of VISION,

CONCERNING

The Government of OLIVER CROMWELL [a].

T was the funeral day of the late man who

IT

made himself to be called protector. And though I bore but little affection, either to the memory of him, or to the trouble and folly of all public pageantry, yet I was forced by the importunity of my company to go along with them, and be a fpectator of that folemnity, the expectation of which had been fo great, that it was faid to have brought fome very curious perfons (and no doubt fingular virtuofos) as far as from the mount in Cornwall, and from the Orcades. I found there had been much more coft bestowed than either the dead man, or indeed death itself, could deferve. There

[a] This is the best of our author's profe-works. The fubject, which he had much at heart, raised his genius. There is fomething very noble, and almost poetical, in the plan of this Vifion; and a warm vein of eloquence runs quite through it. B

VOL. II.

was

was a mighty train of black affiftants, among which, too, divers princes in the persons of their ambassadors (being infinitely afflicted for the lofs of their brother) were pleased to attend ; the herfe was magnificent, the idol crowned, and (not to mention all other ceremonies which are practifed at royal interments, and therefore by no means could be omitted here) the vast multitude of fpectators made up, as it ufes to do, no small part of the fpectacle itself. But yet, I know not how, the whole was so managed, that, methought, it fomewhat represented the life of him for whom it was made; much noife, much tumult, much expence, much magnificence, much vain-glory; briefly, a great fhow, and yet, after all this, but an ill fight. At last, (for it feemed long to me, and like his fhort reign too, very tedious) the whole fcene paffed by, and I retired back to my chamber, weary, and I think more melancholy than any of the mourners. Where I began to reflect on the whole life of this prodigious man: and fometimes I was filled with horror and detestation of his actions, and fometimes I inclined a little to reverence and admiration of his courage, conduct, and success, till, by these different motions and agitations of mind, rocked, as it were, afleep, I fell at last into this vifion; or if you please to call it but a dream, I fhall not take it ill, because the father of poets tells us, even dreams, too, are from God.

But

But fure it was no dream; for I was fuddenly transported afar off (whether in the body, or out of the body, like St. Paul [b], I know not) and found myself on the top of that famous hill in the island Mona, which has the profpect of three great, and not long fince most happy, kingdoms. As foon as ever I looked on them, the Not-long-fince ftruck upon my memory, and called forth the fad representation of all the fins, and all the miseries, that had overwhelmed

them these twenty years. And I wept bitterly for two or three hours; and, when my prefent ftock of moisture was all wafted, I fell a fighing for an hour more; and, as foon as I recovered from my paffion the use of speech and reason, I broke forth, as I remember (looking upon England) into this complaint:

I.

Ah, happy ifle, how art thou chang'd and curft,
Since I was born, and knew thee firft!
When peace, which had forfook the world around,
(Frighted with noife, and the fhrill trumpet's found)
Thee, for a private place of reft,

And a fecure retirement, chose

Wherein to build her halcyon neft;
No wind durft ftir abroad the air to discompose.

[b] like St. Paul] Very injudicious, on fuch an occafion, to use the language of St. Paul.

2.

When all the riches of the globe beside
Flow'd in to thee with every tide :
When all, that nature did thy foil deny,
The growth was of thy fruitful industry;
When all the proud and dreadful fea,
And all his tributary-ftreams,

A conftant tribute paid to thee,

When all the liquid, world was one extended Thames.

3.

When plenty in each village did appear,
And bounty was its fteward there;

When gold walk'd free about in open view,
Ere it one conquering party's prifoner grew
When the religion of our state

Had face and fubftance with her voice,
Ere the by her foolish loves of late,

Like echo (once a nymph) turn'd only into noife.

4.

When men to men respect and friendship bore,
And God with reverence did adore;

When upon earth no kingdom could have shown
A happier monarch to us, than our own;
And yet his fubjects by him were
(Which is a truth will hardly be

Receiv'd by any vulgar ear,

A fecret known to few) made happier.ev'n than he,

5.

Thou doft a Chaos, and confufion now,

A Babel, and a Bedlam grow,

And, like a frantic perfan, thou dost tear

The ornaments and cloaths, which thou fhould'ft

wear,

And

And cut thy limbs; and, if we fee
(Just as thy barbarous Britons did).
Thy body with hypocrify

Painted all o'er, thou think'ft, thy naked fhame is hid.

6.

The nations, which envy'd thee erewhile

Now laugh (too little 'tis to fmile)

They laugh, and would have pitied thee (alas!)

But that thy faults all pity do furpass.

Art thou the country, which didst hate
And mock the French inconftancy?
And have we, have we feen of late

Lefs change of habits there, than governments in

thee?

7.

Unhappy ifle! no ship of thine at fea,

Was ever toft and torn like thee.

Thy naked hulk loose on the waves does beat,
The rocks and banks around her ruin threat;
What did thy foolish pilots ail,

To lay the compafs quite afide ?

Without a law or rule to fail

And rather take the winds, than Heaven's to be their guide?

8.

Yet, mighty God, yet, yet, we humbly crave,
This floating ifle from shipwreck fave;

And though, to wash that blood which does it ftain,
It well deferves to fink into the main;

Yet, for the royal martyr's prayer,
(The royal martyr prays, we know)
This guilty, perishing veffel spare;

Hear but his foul above, and not his blood below.