Turning for a moment from war to love, on the 19th of November 1657 Cromwell's third daughter, the Lady Mary Cromwell, was married to Viscount, afterwards Earl, Fauconberg. The Fauconbergs took revolutions calmly and, despite the disinterment of their great relative, accepted the Restoration gladly and lived to chuckle over the Revolution. The forgetfulness, no less than the vindictiveness, of men is often surprising. Marvell, who played the part of Laureate during the Protectorate, produced two songs for the conventionally joyful occasion. The second of the two is decidedly pretty for a November wedding:--
"_Hobbinol._ PHILLIS, TOMALIN, away! Never such a merry day, For the northern shepherd's son Has MENALCAS' daughter won.
_Phillis._ Stay till I some flowers have tied In a garland for the bride.
_Tomalin._ If thou would'st a garland bring, PHILLIS, you may wait the spring: They have chosen such an hour When she is the only flower.
_Phillis._ Let's not then, at least, be seen Without each a sprig of green.
_Hobbinol._ Fear not; at MENALCAS' hall There are bays enough for all. He, when young as we, did graze, But when old he planted bays.
_Tomalin._ Here she comes; but with a look Far more catching than my hook; 'Twas those eyes, I now dare swear, Led our lambs we knew not where.
_Hobbinol._ Not our lambs' own fleeces are Curled so lovely as her hair, Nor our sheep new-washed can be Half so white or sweet as she.
_Phillis._ He so looks as fit to keep Somewhat else than silly sheep.
_Hobbinol._ Come, let's in some carol new Pay to love and them their due.
_All._ Joy to that happy pair Whose hopes united banish our despair. What shepherd could for love pretend, Whilst all the nymphs on Damon's choice attend? What shepherdess could hope to wed Before Marina's turn were sped? Now lesser beauties may take place And meaner virtues come in play; While they Looking from high Shall grace Our flocks and us with a propitious eye."
All this merriment came to an end on the 3rd of September 1658, when Oliver Cromwell died on the anniversary of Dunbar fight and of the field of Worcester. And yet the end, though it was to be sudden, did not at once seem likely to be so. There was time for the poets to tune their lyres. Waller, Dryden, Sprat, and Marvell had no doubt that "Tumbledown Dick" was to sit on the throne of his father and "still keep the sword erect," and were ready with their verses.