He nothing common did, or mean,
Upon that memorable scene,
But with his keener eye
The axe's edge did try;

Nor called the gods with vulgar spite
To vindicate his helpless right,
But bowed his comely head
Down, as upon a bed."

It is strange that the death of the king should be so nobly sung in an
Ode bearing Cromwell's name and dedicate to his genius:--

"So restless Cromwell could not cease
In the inglorious arts of peace,
But through adventurous war
Urgèd his active star;

...

Then burning through the air he went,
And palaces and temples rent;
And Cæsar's head at last
Did through his laurels blast.

'Tis madness to resist or blame
The force of angry Heaven's flame;
And if we would speak true,
Much to the man is due,