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.
Other works by John Milton...
