Classic Poem

The little Hearts, where light-wing'd Passion raignes,
Moue easily vpward, as all frailties doe;
Like Strawes to Ieat , these follow Princes veines,
And so, by pleasing, doe corrupt them too.
Whence as their raising proues Kings can create,
So States proue sicke, where toyes beare Staple-rate.

Like Atomi they neither rest, nor stand,
Nor can erect; because they nothing be
But baby-thoughts, fed with time-presents hand,
Slaues, and yet darlings of Authority;
Eccho's of wrong; shadowes of Princes might;
Which glow-worme-like, by shining, show 'tis night.

Curious of fame, as foule is to be faire;
Caring to seeme that which they would not be;
Wherein Chance helpes, since Praise is powers heyre,
Honor the creature of Authoritie:
So as borne high, in giddie Orbes of grace,
These Pictures are, which are indeed but Place.

And as the Bird in hand, with freedome lost,
Serues for a stale, his fellowes to betray:
So doe these Darlings rays'd at Princes cost
Tempt man to throw his libertie away;
And sacrifice Law, Church, all reall things
To soare, not in his owne, but Eagles wings.

Whereby, like Æsops dogge, men lose their meat,
To bite at glorious shadowes, which they see;
And let fall those strengths which make all States great
By free Truths chang'd to seruile flatterie.
Whence, while men gaze upon this blazing starre ,
Made slaues, not subiects, they to Tyrants are.