Andrew Marvell lived through the English Revolution. As Cromwell became more tyrannical, he turned to satire: this may be one of them. The image of Cromwell keeping his armour oiled and active is contrasted with herbs… and the clear disapproval of the death of Charles is clear.
For Marvell was for order, and Cromwell had to deal with the levellers and diggers who wanted to drag everything to the left. Cromwell wanted to establish a protestant republic, but keep the traditions of the English Gentry.
And he found himself dealing with the Catholics and Royalists, who continually used Ireland as a vector for rebellion.
An Horatian Ode upon Cromwell’s Return from Ireland
,divThe forward youth that would appearMust now forsake his Muses dear,Nor in the shadows singHis numbers languishing.’Tis time to leave the books in dust,And oil th’ unused armour’s rust,Removing from the wallThe corslet of the hall.So restless Cromwell could not ceaseIn the inglorious arts of peace,But thorough advent’rous warUrged his active star.And like the three-fork’d lightning, firstBreaking the clouds where it was nurst,Did through his own sideHis fiery way divide.For ’tis all one to courage high,The emulous or enemy;And with such to encloseIs more than to oppose.Then burning through the air he went,And palaces and temples rent;And Cæsar’s head at lastDid through his laurels blast.’Tis madness to resist or blameThe force of angry Heaven’s flame;And, if we would speak true,Much to the man is due,Who from his private gardens whereHe liv’d reserved and austere,As if his highest plotTo plant the bergamot,Could by industrious valour climbTo ruin the great work of time,And cast the kingdom oldInto another mould.Though justice against fate complain,And plead the ancient rights in vain;But those do hold or breakAs men are strong or weak.Nature that hateth emptinessAllows of penetration less,And therefore must make roomWhere greater spirits come.What field of all the civil warsWhere his were not the deepest scars?And Hampton shows what partHe had of wiser art,Where, twining subtle fears with hope,He wove a net of such a scopeThat Charles himself might chaseTo Carisbrooke’s narrow case,That thence the royal actor borneThe tragic scaffold might adorn,While round the armed bandsDid clap their bloody hands.He nothing common did or meanUpon that memorable scene,But with his keener eyeThe axe’s edge did try;Nor call’d the gods with vulgar spiteTo vindicate his helpless right,But bowed his comely headDown as upon a bed.This was that memorable hourWhich first assur’d the forced pow’r.So when they did designThe Capitol’s first line,A bleeding head, where they begun,Did fright the architects to run;And yet in that the stateForesaw its happy fate.And now the Irish are asham’dTo see themselves in one year tam’d;So much one man can doThat does both act and know.They can affirm his praises best,And have, though overcome, confestHow good he is, how just,And fit for highest trust;Nor yet grown stiffer with command,But still in the republic’s hand;How fit he is to swayThat can so well obey.He to the Commons’ feet presentsA kingdom for his first year’s rents;And, what he may, forbearsHis fame, to make it theirs,And has his sword and spoils ungirt,To lay them at the public’s skirt.So when the falcon highFalls heavy from the sky,She, having kill’d, no more does searchBut on the next green bough to perch,Where, when he first does lure,The falc’ner has her sure.What may not then our isle presumeWhile victory his crest does plume!What may not others fearIf thus he crown each year!A Cæsar he ere long to Gaul,To Italy an Hannibal,And to all states not free,Shall climacteric be.The Pict no shelter now shall findWithin his parti-colour’d mind;But from this valour sadShrink underneath the plaid,Happy if in the tufted brakeThe English hunter him mistake,Nor lay his hounds in nearThe Caledonian deer.But thou, the war’s and fortune’s son,March indefatigably on;And for the last effectStill keep thy sword erect;Besides the force it has to frightThe spirits of the shady night,The same arts that did gainA pow’r, must it maintain.
Cromwell won. He was brutal. War normally is. The Irish romanticised the resistance because they are Catholic and Cromwell was a Puritan, but it is fair to say that the Catholic monarchs of that time were just as brutal.
The difference is that they would tolerate Marvell. Cromwell did. As we tolerate the Pogues. Many of the current politically correct want to deny that there was a revolution and there Cromwell beat the Royalists and the Irish.
But we should remind ourselves of the poets, for good or ill. The Victorian guidelines would ban Marvell. A good reason to post about him.