Cromwell's Statue

What needs our Cromwell stone or bronze to say His was the light that lit on England's way The 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 France When Piedmont felt the she-wolf Rome devour.
From Cromwell's eyes the light of England's glance Flashed, and bowed down the kings by grace of chance, The priest-anointed princes; one alone By grace of England held their hosts in trance.
The enthroned Republic from her kinglier throne Spake, and her speech was Cromwell's. Earth has known No lordlier presence. How should Cromwell stand With kinglets and with queenlings hewn in stone?
Incarnate England in his warrior hand Smote, and as fire devours the blackening brand Made 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 throng That 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 fame To bid the world bear witness whence he came Who bade fierce Europe fawn at England's heel And purged the plague of lineal rule with flame.
There needs no witness graven on stone or steel For one whose work bids fame bow down and kneel; Our man of men, whose time-commanding name Speaks England, and proclaims her Commonweal.
June 20, 1895