Classic Poem

But envy ruines all: What mighty names
Of fortune, spirit, action, bloud, and fame,
Hath this destroy'd? yea, for no other cause
Then being such; their honour, worth, and place,
Was crime enough; their statues, arms & crowns;
Their ornaments of Triumph, Chariots, Gowns,
And what the Herauld with a learned care,
Had long preserv'd, this madnes will not spare.
So once Sejanus Statue Rome allow'd
Her Demi-god, and ev'ry Roman bow'd
To pay his safeties vowes; but when that face
Had lost Tyberius once, it's former grace
Was soone eclips'd; no diff'rence made (Alas!)
Betwixt his Statue then, and common Brasse;
They melt alike, and in the Workmans hand
For equall, servile use, like others stand.
Goe now fetch home fresh Bayes, and pay new vowes
To thy dumbe Capitoll gods! thy life, thy house,
And state are now secur'd; Sejanus lyes
I'th' Lictors hands; ye gods! what hearts, & eyes
Can one dayes fortune change? the solemne crye
Of all the world is, Let Sejanus dye:
They never lov'd the man they sweare, they know
Nothing of all the matter; when, or how,
By what accuser, for what cause, or why,
By whose command, or sentence he must dye
But what needs this? the least pretence will hit,
When Princes feare, or hate a Favourite.
A large Epistle stuff'd with idle feare,
Vaine dreames, and jealousies, directed here
From Caprea does it; And thus ever dye
Subjects, when once they grow prodigious high
'Tis well, I seeke no more; but tell me how
This tooke his friends? no private murmurs now?
No teares? no solemne mourner seene? must all
His Glory perish in one funerall?
O still true Romans! State-wit bids them praise
The Moone by night; but court the warmer rayes
O' th' Sun by day; they follow fortune still,
And hate, or love discreetly, as their will
And the time leades them; This tumultuous fate
Puts all their painted favours out of date:
And yet this people that now spurne, & tread
This mighty Favourites once honour'd head,
Had but the Tuscaine goddesse, or his Stars
Destin'd him for an Empire, or had wars,
Treason, or policie, or some higher pow'r
Opprest secure Tyberius ; that same houre
That he receiv'd the sad Gemonian doome,
Had crown'd him Emp'ror of the world, & Rome.
But Rome is now growne wise, & since that she
Her Suffrages, and ancient Libertie,
Lost in a Monarchs name; she takes no care
For Favourite, or Prince; nor will she share
Their fickle glories, though in Cato's dayes
She rul'd whole States, & Armies with her voice,
Of all the honours now within her walls,
She only doats on Playes, and Festivalls:
Nor is it strange; for when these Meteors fall,
They draw an ample ruine with them; All
Share in the storm; each beame sets with the Sun,
And equall hazard friends, and flatt'rers run.
This makes, that circled with distractive feare
The livelesse, pale Sejanus limbes they teare,
And least the action might a witnesse need,
They bring their servants to confirme the deed,
Nor is it done for any other end,
Then to avoid the title of his friend.
So fals ambitious man, and such are still
All floating States built on the peoples will:
Hearken all you! whom this bewitching lust
Of an houres glory, and a little dust
Swels to such deare repentance! you that can
Measure whole kingdoms with a thought or span
Would you be as Sejanus ? would you have
So you might sway as he did, such a grave?
Would you be rich as he? command, dispose,
All Acts, and Offices? All friends, and foes?
Be Generalls of Armies, and Colleague
Unto an Emperour? breake, or make a league?
No doubt you would; for both the good, and bad,
An equall itch of honour ever had:
But O what State can be so great, or good,
As to be bought with so much shame, and bloud!
Alas! Sejanus will too late confesse
'Twas only pride, and greatnes made him lesse:
For he that moveth with the lofty wind
Of Fortune, and ambition, unconfin'd
In act, or thought; doth but increase his height,
That he may loose it with more force, & weight;
Scorning a base, low ruine, as if he
Would of misfortune, make a Prodigie.