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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=421497" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>To My Lord Fairfax</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=421497" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Fairfax, whose Name in Arms through Europe rings,<br> And fills all Mouths with Envy or with Praise,<br> And all her Jealous Monarchs with Amaze.<br> And Rumours loud which daunt remotest Kings,<br>Thy firm unshaken Valour ever brings<br> Victory home, while new Rebellions raise<br> Their Hydra-heads, and the false North displays<br> Her broken League to Imp her Serpent Wings:<br>O yet! a Nobler task awaits thy Hand,<br> For what can War, but Acts of War still breed<br> Till injur'd Truth from Violence be freed;<br>And publick Faith be rescu'd from the Brand<br> Of publick Fraud; in vain doth Valour bleed,<br> While Avarice and Rapine shares the Land.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=John+Milton">John Milton</a></strong></div>

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