CROMWELL'S STATUE

What needs our Cromwell stone or bronze to say

His was the light that lit on England's way

The sundawn of her time-compelling power,

The noontide of her most imperial day?

His hand won back the sea for England's dower;

His footfall bade the Moor change heart and cower;

His word on Milton's tongue spake law to France

When Piedmont felt the she-wolf Rome devour.

From Cromwell's eyes the light of England's glance

Flashed, and bowed down the kings by grace of chance,

The priest-anointed princes; one alone

By grace of England held their hosts in trance.

The enthroned Republic from her kinglier throne

Spake, and her speech was Cromwell's. Earth has known

No lordlier presence. How should Cromwell stand

With kinglets and with queenlings hewn in stone?

Incarnate England in his warrior hand

Smote, and as fire devours the blackening brand

Made ashes of their strengths who wrought her wrong,

And turned the strongholds of her foes to sand.

His praise is in the sea's and Milton's song;

What praise could reach him from the weakling throng

That rules by leave of tongues whose praise is shame —

Him, who made England out of weakness strong?

There needs no clarion's blast of broad-blown fame

To bid the world bear witness whence he came

Who bade fierce Europe fawn at England's heel

And purged the plague of lineal rule with flame.

There needs no witness graven on stone or steel

For one whose work bids fame bow down and kneel;

Our man of men, whose time-commanding name

Speaks England, and proclaims her Commonweal.