ANDREW MARVELL
Though Justice against Fate complain, And plead the ancient rights in vain But those do hold or break As men are strong or weak
Nature, 'that hateth emptiness,
Allows of penetration less,
And therefore must make room Where greater spirits come.
What field of all the civil war Where his were not the deepest scar?
And Hampton shows what part
He had of wiser art;
Where, twining subtle fears with hope, He wove a net of such a scope
That Charles himself might chase To Carisbrook's narrow case;
That thence the Royal actor borne The tragic scaffold might adorn:
While round the armed bands Did clap their bloody hands.
He nothing common did or mean Upon that memorable scene, But with his keener eye The axe's edge did try;
Nor call'd the Gods, with vulgar spite, To vindicate his helpless right; But bow'd his comely head Down, as upon a bed.
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