Refused by the party of reaction and disunion in the House of Commons on the 17th of June, 1895.
What needs our Cromwell stone or bronze to sayHis was the light that lit on England's wayThe 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 FranceWhen Piedmont felt the she-wolf Rome devour.
From Cromwell's eyes the light of England's glanceFlashed, and bowed down the kings by grace of chance,The priest-anointed princes; one aloneBy grace of England held their hosts in trance.
The enthroned Republic from her kinglier throneSpake, and her speech was Cromwell's. Earth has knownNo lordlier presence. How should Cromwell standWith kinglets and with queenlings hewn in stone?
Incarnate England in his warrior handSmote, and as fire devours the blackening brandMade 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 throngThat 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 fameTo bid the world bear witness whence he cameWho bade fierce Europe fawn at England's heelAnd purged the plague of lineal rule with flame.
There needs no witness graven on stone or steelFor one whose work bids fame bow down and kneel;Our man of men, whose time-commanding nameSpeaks England, and proclaims her Commonweal.