For soon from grasp of Richard Cromwell slips
Semblance of power he ne’er had strength to hold;
And wolves each other tear, who tore the fold,
While lurid twilight mocks the State’s eclipse.
Then, from divided counsels, bitter snarls,
Deceit and broken fealty, selfish aim—
Where promptitude and courage win the game,—
Self-scattered fall they; and up mounts
KING CHARLES.
J. W. E.