[Milton-L] Cromwell and miracles

John Geraghty johnegeraghty at hotmail.com
Sun Jul 31 04:40:24 EDT 2005

 I remember a passage from "The Perfect Politician..." 1660, that recounts an anecdote of the King of Germany confiding in a few of his courtiers that he believes the soul of Gustavus (of Sweden) had "Transmigrated" into Cromwell. I thumbed through the text but was not able to locate the exact passage. There are articles such as http://etext.lib.virginia.edu/journals/EH/EH34/creed34.html that reference the Gustavus parallel on the web.  

An interesting aside, is legends of like  Gen. Goffe (http://www.british-civil-wars.co.uk/biog/index_g.htm) as the "Angel of Hadley" 

Chapman's portrait of the scene at http://www.forbeslibrary.org/special/images/angelofhadley.jpg

skeptical analysis at: http://www.bio.umass.edu/biology/conn.river/hadley.html
A good story perhaps there are others.....


WAR is RAW and WRATHful, be WARy, be AWARe 

Re turn'd Atrides to the coast of Greece,
A nd safe to Argos port his navy brought,
W ith gifts of price and ponderous treasure fraught.
 Hence warn'd, my son, beWARe! nor idly stand

Profaness seeing how all things did jar
Had her last Daughter named CIVIL WAR
And finding that all order did decline
Foreseeing events to her did Ruin join;
So Beggary's brought forth this before,
W hen Love, Peace, Concord, longer can't endure,
A Civil WAR must through the nation ring,
R uin ensues, which Beggary does bring.

Rebellion rising; saw in whom, how spread 
A  mong the sons of morn, what multitudes 
W ere banded to oppose his high decree; 
And, smiling, to his only Son thus said. 

W hile those combind by Satans Tyranny first in the blood of War
A nd Sacrifice &, next, in Chains of imprisonment: are Shapeless Rocks"
R etaining only Satans Mathematic Holiness, Length: Bredth & Highth"

W ith trees and fields full of fairy elves,
A nd little devils who fight for themselves --
R ememb'ring the verses that Hayley sung

 Then said `Descend thou upon earth,
R enew the Arts on Britain's shore,
A nd France shall fall down and adore.
W ith works of art their armies meet
 And war shall sink beneath thy feet.

For here were old men shuffling off to war
With muskets that a hundred years before
R outed Sir Lacy Evans from the shore
A nd captured his artillery outright
W hose Regulars refused to turn and fight
A lthough he raged and cursed with ll his might.
R ise up, you cocks, like Requetes enrolled,
With your red boinas and your spurs of gold

 Ye patriot heroes! in the glorious cause
 Of Justice, Mercy, Liberty, and Laws,
W ho call to Virtue's shrine the British youth,
A nd shake the senate with the voice of Truth;
R ouse the dull ear, the hoodwink'd eye unbind,
A nd give to energy the public mind;
W hile rival realms with blood unsated wage
 Wide-wasting war with fell demoniac rage;
 In every clime while army army meets,

  O the dire image of the bloody fight 
  These eyes have seen, when the capacious plain 
W as throng'd with Dacian spears; when polish'd helms
A  nd convex gold blaz'd thick against the sun 
R  estoring all his beams! but frowning war 
A  ll gloomy, like a gather'd tempest, stood 
W avering, and doubtful where to bend its fall.  

 But, by thy lyf, be war and faste eschuwe
 To tarien ought, god shilde us fro mischaunce!
R yd forth thy wey, and hold thy governaunce;
A nd we shal speke of thee som-what, I trowe,
W han Thou art goon, to do thyne eres glowe!

 For other wey is fro the yate noon
 Of Dardanus, ther open is the cheyne.'
W ith that com he and al his folk anoon
A n esy pas rydinge, in routes tweyne,
Ri ght as his happy day was, sooth to seyne,
 For which, men say, may nought disturbed be
 That shal bityden of necessitee.

W hat you may do now is to save their souls,  
A nd bodies too, and like enough your own.  
R emember that King Arthur is a king,  
And where there is a king there is a kingdom.  
Is not the kingdom any more to you  
Than one brief enemy? Would you see it fall  
And the King with it, for one mortal hate 

W  hen Athens' armies fell at Syracuse, 
A   nd fetter'd thousands bore the yoke of war, 
R   edemption rose up in the Attic Muse, 

R eturn to whence they came -- with like intent, 
A nd weave their web again; some, bow'd and bent, 
W ax gray and ghastly, withering ere their time, 
And perish with the reed on which they leant; 
Some seek devotion, toil, war, good or crime, 
According as their souls were form'd to sink or climb. 

 For there the Carthaginian's warlike wiles 
 Come back before me, as his skill beguiles 
 The host between the mountains the the shore, 
W here Courage falls in her despairing files, 
A nd torrents swoll'n to rivers with their gore, 
R eek through the sultry plain, with legions scatter'd o'er, 

 Search to what regions yonder star retires,       
W ho monthly waning hides her paly fires,       
A nd whence, anew revived, with silver light       
R elumes her crescent orb to cheer the dreary night;       
 How rising winds the face of ocean sweep;       
 Where lie the eternal fountains of the deep;       
 And whence the cloudy magazines maintain       
 Their wintry war or pour the autumnal rain;    

 Ye Argive flower, ye warlike band,       
W ho trust your arms shall raze the Tyrian towers,       
A nd batter Cadmus' walls with stony showers,       
R eceive a worthier load; yon puny ball  

 Who has not heard how Tyrian shells 
 Enclosed the blue, that dye of dyes 
W hereof one drop worked miracles, 
A nd colored like Astarte's eyes 
Raw silk the merchant sells? 

 Past doubt her wisdom, taking from mad War
 Such slaves to do his bidding; and if she
 Repent her not of the elephant and whale,
 Who ponders well confesses her therein
W iser and more discreet; for when brute force
A nd evil will are back'd with subtlety,
R esistance none avails. His visage seem'd

R emember, and forget not, how thou provokedst the LORD thy God to wrath in the wilderness: from the day that thou didst depart out of the land of Egypt, until ye came unto this place, ye have been rebellious against the LORD. 
A lso in Horeb ye provoked the LORD to wrath, so that the LORD was angry with you to have destroyed you. 
W hen I was gone up into the mount to receive the tables of stone, even the tables of the covenant which the LORD made with you, then I abode in the mount forty days and forty nights, I neither did eat bread nor drink water: 

 Shake pestilence and war, or that his slaves....
Re nder thou up thy half-devoured babes,--
A nd from the cradles of eternity,
W here millions lie lulled to their portioned sleep

R aises to Heav'n the Isle that gave him Birth.
A sacred Man, a venerable Priest,
W ho never spake, and Admiration mist.
 Of Good and Kind the just Standard seem'd,
 Dear to the Best, and by the worst esteem'd.
 A gen'rous Love diffus'd to Humane Kind,
 Divine Compassion, Mercy unconfin'd,
 Still reign'd Triumphant in his God-like Mind?

 Greatness and Modesty their Wars compose,

W ith furious Hoofs o'er slaughter'd Heaps they fly,
A nd dash up Bloody Rain amidst the Sky.
R eeking in sweat, and smear'd with Dust and Gore
 They spurn the Sand, and thro' the Battel roar.

W hile other Plagues run colder to the Heart,
A nd thro' their Breast strike like a poison'd Dart.
R ack'd with tormenting Pain some gasping lie,
 Some only breath th' envenom'd Air, and die.

W here their illustrious Triumphs first begun,
A dvance their Ensigns, Canaan to invade,
R ipe by their full grown Sins for Conquest made.

 My soul was unsubdued. A plastic power
 Abode with me; a forming hand, at times
Rebellious, acting in a devious mood;
A local spirit of his own, at war
W ith general tendency, but, for the most,

W hen our son's sons wage northern war;
A royal city, tower and spire,
R eddened the midnight sky with fire,
 And shouting crews her navy bore,
 Triumphant to the victor shore.
 Such signs may learned clerks explain -
 They pass the wit of simple swain.

R esistless speeds the deadly thrust,
A s lightning strikes the pine to dust;
W ith foot and hand Fitz-James must strain
 Ere he can win his blade again.

T hen of the certaine perill he stood in,
H alfe furious unto his foe he came,
R esolv'd in minde all suddenly to win,
O r soone to lose, before he once would lin;
A nd strooke at her with more then manly force,
T hat from her body full of filthie sin
  He raft her hatefull head without remorse;
  A streame of cole black bloud forth gushed fro her corse. 

H  alf thro' the other's Neck, did make its way.
T  he Head half sever'd on his Shoulders hung,
A  nd from the Wound a bloody Torrent sprung.
R  olling in Gore upon the Field he lay,
W  ildly he star'd, and groan'd his life away,

H   is brother Morgan, prickt with proud disdaine,
T   o haue a pere in part of soueraintie,
A   nd kindling coles of cruell enmitie,
R   aisd warre, and him in battell ouerthrew:
W  hence as he to those woodie hils did flie,

W  hen raging passion with fierce tyrannie
R   obs reason of her due regalitie
A   nd makes it seruant to her basest part:
Th e strong it weakens with infirmitie,

 Hereof this gentle knight unweeting was,
 And lying downe upon the sandie graile,
D runke of the streame, as cleare as cristall glas;
E ftsoones his manly forces gan to faile,
A nd mightie strong was turnd to feeble fraile.
H is chaunged powres at first them selves not felt,
T ill crudled cold his corage gan assaile,
 And chearefull bloud in faintnesse chill did melt,
 Which like a fever fit through all his body swelt. 

D avid for being merciful possessed the throne of an everlasting kingdom. 
E lias for being zealous and fervent for the law was taken up into heaven. 
A nanias, Azarias, and Misael, by believing were saved out of the flame. 
D aniel for his innocency was delivered from the mouth of lions. 
 And thus consider ye throughout all ages, that none that put their trust in him shall be overcome. 
 Fear not then the words of a sinful man: for his glory shall be dung and worms. 
 To day he shall be lifted up and to morrow he shall not be found, because he is returned into his dust, and his thought is come to nothing. 

A Garment of War, I heard it namd the WOOF of Six Thousand Years.

 THIS is the Month, and this the happy morn 
W herin the Son of Heav'ns eternal King, 
O f wedded Maid, and Virgin Mother born, 
O ur great redemption from above did bring; 
F or so the holy sages once did sing, 
 That he our deadly forfeit should release, 


----- Original Message ----- 
  From: Burbery, Timothy 
  To: John Milton Discussion List 
  Sent: Friday, July 29, 2005 8:13 AM
  Subject: [Milton-L] Cromwell and miracles

  Dear All, 


  Does anyone happen to know if miracles were ever attributed to Oliver Cromwell? I realize his military victories were seen as providential, but were they - or anything else he did -- ever deemed miraculous, and if so, by whom? 



  Tim Burbery  

  Marshall University




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