Cromwell, Our Cheif Of Men, Who Through A Cloud Not Of Warr Onely, But Detractions Rude, Guided By Faith & Matchless Fortitude To Peace & Truth Thy Glorious Way Hast Plough'D, And On The Neck Of Crowned Fortune Proud Hast Reard Gods Trophies, & His Work Pursu'D, While Darwen Stream With Blood Of Scotts Imbru'D, And Dunbarr Field Resounds Thy Praises Loud, And Worsters Laureat Wreath; Yet Much Remaines To Conquer Still; Peace Hath Her Victories No Less Renownd Then Warr, New Foes Aries Threatning To Bind Our Soules With Secular Chaines: Helpe Us To Save Free Conscience From The Paw Of Hireling Wolves Whose Gospell Is Their Maw.