Vane, young in years, but in sage counsel old, <br />Than whom a better senator ne’er held <br />The helm of Rome, when gowns, not arms, repelled <br />The fierce Epirot and the African bold, <br />Whether to settle peace, or to unfold <br />The drift of hollow states hard to be spelled; <br />Then to advise how war may best, upheld, <br />Move by her two main nerves, iron and gold, <br />In all her equipage; besides, to know <br />Both spiritual power and civil, what each means, <br />What severs each, thou hast learned, which few have done. <br />The bounds of either sword to thee we owe: <br />Therefore on thy firm hand Religion leans <br />In peace, and reckons thee her eldest son.<br /><br />John Milton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-sir-henry-vane-the-younger/
