Fairfax, whose name in arms through Europe rings
     Filling each mouth with envy, or with praise,
     And all her jealous monarchs with amaze
     And rumours loud, that daunt remotest kings;
Thy firm unshak’n virtue ever brings
     Victory home, though new rebellions raise
     Their hydra heads, and the false north displays
     Her brok’n league, to imp their serpent wings:
O yet a nobler task awaits thy hand;
     For what can war but endless war still breed?
     Till Truth and Right from Violence be freed,
And Public Faith clear’d from the shameful brand
     Of Public Fraud. In vain doth Valour bleed
     While Avarice and Rapine share the land.

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