Classic Poem

Tell mighty Pompey, Crassus , and O thou
That mad'st Rome kneele to thy victorious brow,
What but the weight of honours, and large fame
After your worthy Acts, and height of name,
Destroy'd you in the end? the envious Fates
Easie to further your aspiring States,
Us'd them to quell you too; pride, and excesse
In ev'ry Act did make you thrive the lesse:
Few Kings are guiltie of gray haires, or dye
Without a stab, a draught, or trecherie:
And yet to see him, that but yesterday
Saw letters first, how he will scrape, and pray;
And all her Feast-time tyre Minervaes eares
For Fame, for Eloquence, and store of yeares
To thrive and live in; and then lest he doates,
His boy assists him with his boxe, and notes;
Foole that thou art! not to discerne the ill
These vows include; what, did Rom's Consull kill
Her Cicero ? what, him whose very dust
Greece celebrates as yet; whose cause though just,
Scarse banishment could end; nor poyson save
His free borne person from a forraigne grave:
All this from Eloquence! both head, and hand,
The tongue doth forfeit; pettie wits may stand
Secure from danger, but the nobler veine,
With losse of bloud the barre doth often staine.

*****

O fortunatam natam me Consule Romam.

*****

Had all been thus, thou might'st have scorn'd the sword
Of fierce Antonius , here is not one word
Doth pinch, I like such stuffe; 'tis safer far
Then thy Philippicks, or Pharsalia's war:
What sadder end then his, whom Athens saw
At once her Patriot, Oracle, and Law?
Unhappy then is he, and curs'd in Stars,
Whom his poore Father, blind with soot, & scars
Sends from the Anviles harmles chime, to weare
The factious gowne, and tyre his Clients eare,
And purse with endles noise; Trophies of war
Old rusty armour, with an honour'd scar;
And wheeles of captiv'd Chariots, with a peece
Of some torne Brittish Galley, and to these
The Ensigne too, and last of all the traine
The pensive pris'ner loaden with his Chaine,
Are thought true Roman honors; these the Greek
And rude Barbarians equally doe seeke.
Thus aire, and empty fame, are held a prize
Beyond faire vertue; for all vertue dyes
Without reward; And yet by this fierce lust
Of Fame, and titles to ovtlive our dust,
And Monuments; (though all these things must dye
And perish like our selves) whole Kingdomes lye
Ruin'd, and spoil'd: Put Hannibal i'th' scale,
What weight affords the mighty Generall?
This is the man, whom Africks spacious Land
Bounded by th' Indian Sea, and Niles hot sand,
Could not containe; (Ye gods! that give to men
Such boundles appetites, why state you them
So short a time? either the one deny,
Or give their acts, and them Eternitie)
All Æthiopia, to the utmost bound
Of Titans course, (then which no Land is found
Lesse distant from the Sun) with him that ploughs
That fertile soile where fam'd Iberus flowes,
Are not enough to conquer; past now o're
The Pyrene hills, The Alps with all its store
Of Ice, and Rocks clad in eternall snow
(As if that Nature meant to give the blow)
Denyes him passage; straight on ev'ry side
He wounds the Hill, and by strong hand divides
The monstrous pile, nought can ambition stay,
The world, and nature yeeld to give him way:
And now past o're the Alps, that mighty bar
'Twixt France, and Rome, feare of the future war
Strikes Italy; successe, and hope doth fire
His lofty spirits with a fresh desire
All is undone as yet (saith he) unlesse
Our Paenish forces we advance, and presse
Upon Rome's selfe; break downe her gates, & wall,
And plant our Colours in Suburra's Vale.
O the rare sight! if this great souldier wee
Arm'd on his Getick Elephant might see!
But what's the event? O glory! how the itch
Of thy short wonders doth mankinde bewitch!
He that but now all Italy, and Spaine,
Had conquer'd o're, is beaten out againe;
And in the heart of Africk, and the sight
Of his owne Carthage, forc'd to open flight.
Banish'd from thence, a fugitive he posts
To Syria first, then to Bythinia's Coasts;
Both places by his sword secur'd; though he
In this distresse must not acknowledg'd be;
Where once a Generall he triumphed, now
To shew what Fortune can, he begs as low.