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[silverflurry.livejournal.com]

To Oliver Cromwell

Cromwell our Chief of Men, that through a Croud,
Not of War only, but distractions rude;
Guided by Faith, and Matchless Fortitude:
To Peace and Truth, thy Glorious way hast Plough'd,
And on the neck of crowned Fortune proud
Has rear'd God's Trophies, and his Work pursu'd,
While Darwent Streams with Blood of Scots imbru'd;
And Dunbarfield resound thy Praises loud,
And Worcester's Laureat Wreath; yet much remains
To Conquer still; Peace hath her Victories
No less than those of War; new Foes arise
Threatening to bind our Souls in secular Chains,
Help us to save Free Conscience from the paw
Of Hireling Wolves, whose Gospel is their maw.

Milton, John.