On Reading Andrew Marvell's Ode On Cromwell's Return From Ireland

You boasted of Cromwell's renown
Of how he put the Irish down
Of how he tamed a sister land
And English respect did command.

Of his great victories you wrote
But Andrew Marvell you failed to note
That Oliver Cromwell was impure
He sinned against the Irish poor.

For his and England's glory and the crown
Poor peasants houses he had burnt down
And he forced them on the road to die
Was his a victory to enjoy?

But then how could you understand
The plight of the poor of Ireland
Since you lived far from Ireland's shore
Perhaps three hundred miles or more.

To Ireland's poor Cromwell brought woe
And what of Ireland would you know
For if you did you would not write
Of Cromwell's greatness and England's might?

Your hero by the monarchy empowered
Was a peasant hating callous coward
Civilian torture nowadays a war crime
And back then you praised him in your rhyme.

The Irish poor on the road dyke left to die
Beneath a freezing winter sky
The frosty winds and the rain and cold
Claimed the infirm, the young and the old.

And Andrew Marvell once great poet
Of Cromwell and his army wrote
When they returned from victory
In sister land beyond the sea.

But in his ode he never told
Of civilians in the rain and cold
The poor on road sides left to die
Beneath a freezing Irish sky.

This all happened centuries ago
But still the world ought to know
Of one who lives in history
Who sinned against humanity.

And Marvell in his famous ode
Of Cromwell's Irish conquests crowed
But it would only seem to me
That he lauded man's inhumanity.