Like the vain curlings of the watery maze, 
Which in smooth streams a sinking weight does raise, 
So Man, declining always, disappears 
In the weak circles of increasing years; 
And his short tumults of themselves compose, 
While flowing Time above his head does close. 

Cromwell alone with greater vigour runs, 
(Sun-like) the stages of succeeding suns: 
And still the day which he doth next restore, 
Is the just wonder of the day before. 
Cromwell alone doth with new lustre spring, 
And shines the jewel of the yearly ring. 

'Tis he the force of scattered time contracts, 
And in one year the work of ages acts: 
While heavy monarchs make a wide return, 
Longer, and more malignant than Saturn: 
And though they all Platonic years should reign, 
In the same posture would be found again. 
Their earthy projects under ground they lay, 
More slow and brittle than the China clay: 
Well may they strive to leave them to their son, 
For one thing never was by one king done. 
Yet some more active for a frontier town, 
Taken by proxy, beg a false renown; 
Another triumphs at the public cost, 
And will have won, if he no more have lost; 
They fight by others, but in person wrong, 
And only are against their subjects strong; 
Their other wars seem but a feigned contèst, 
This common enemy is still oppressed; 
If conquerors, on them they turn their might; 
If conquered, on them they wreak their spite: 
They neither build the temple in their days, 
Nor matter for succeeding founders raise; 
Nor sacred prophecies consult within, 
Much less themself to pèfect them begin; 
No other care they bear of things above, 
But with astrologers divine of Jove 
To know how long their planet yet reprieves 
From the deservéd fate their guilty lives: 
Thus (image-like) an useless time they tell, 
And with vain sceptre strike the hourly bell, 
Nor more contribute to the state of things, 
Than wooden heads unto the viol's strings. 

While indefatigable Cromwell hies, 
And cuts his way still nearer to the skies, 
Learning a music in the region clear, 
To tune this lower to that higher sphere. 

So when Amphion did the lute command, 
Which the god gave him, with his gentle hand, 
The rougher stones, unto his measures hewed, 
Danced up in order from the quarries rude; 
This took a lower, that an higher place, 
As he the treble altered, or the bass: 
No note he struck, but a new stone was laid, 
And the great work ascended while he played. 

The listening structures he with wonder eyed, 
And still new stops to various time applied: 
Now through the strings a martial rage he throws, 
And joining straight the Theban tower arose; 
Then as he strokes them with a touch more sweet, 
The flocking marbles in a palace meet; 
But for the most the graver notes did try, 
Therefore the temples reared their columns high: 
Thus, ere he ceased, his sacred lute creates 
Th' harmonious city of the seven gates. 

Such was that wondrous order and consent, 
When Cromwell tuned the ruling Instrument, 
While tedious statesmen many years did hack, 
Framing a liberty that still went back, 
Whose numerous gorge could swallow in an hour 
That island, which the sea cannot devour: 
Then our Amphion issued out and sings, 
And once he struck, and twice, the powerful strings. 

The Commonwealth then first together came, 
And each one entered in the willing frame; 
All other matter yields, and may be ruled; 
But who the minds of stubborn men can build? 
No quarry bears a stone so hardly wrought, 
Nor with such labour from its centre brought; 
None to be sunk in the foundation bends, 
Each in the house the highest place contends, 
And each the hand that lays him will direct, 
And some fall back upon the architect; 
Yet all composed by his attractive song, 
Into the animated city throng. 

The Commonwealth does through their centres all 
Draw the circumference of the public wall; 
The crossest spirits here do take their part, 
Fastening the contignation which they thwart; 
And they, whose nature leads them to divide, 
Uphold this one, and that the other side; 
But the most equal still sustain the height, 
And they as pillars keep the work upright, 
While the resistance of opposèd minds, 
The fabric (as with arches) stronger binds, 
Which on the basis of a senate free, 
Knit by the roof's protecting weight, agree. 

When for his foot he thus a place had found, 
He hurls e'er since the world about him round, 
And in his several aspects, like a star, 
Here shines in peace, and thither shoots in war, 
While by his beams observing princes steer, 
And wisely court the influence they fear. 
O would they rather by his pattern won 
Kiss the approaching,