Classic Poem

From whence was first this Fury hurled,
This Jealousy into the world?
From Hell? A . No, there doth reign
Eternal hatred with disdain.
But she the daughter is of Love,
Sister of Beauty. Q . Then above
She must derive, from the third sphere,
Her heavenly off-spring? A . Neither there,
From those immortal flames could she
Draw her cold frozen pedigree. Q .
If not in Heaven, nor Hell, where then
Had she her birth? A . In the hearts of men.
Beauty and Fear did her create
Younger than Love, elder than Hate,
Sister to both, by Beauty's side
To Love, by Fear to Hate, allied.
Despair her issue is, whose race
Of fruitful mischiefs drowns the space
Of the wide earth in a swoll'n flood
Of wrath, revenge, spite, rage and blood. Q
Oh! how can such a spurious line
Proceed from parents so divine? A .
As streams which from their crystal spring
Do sweet and clear their waters bring;
Yet mingling with the brackish main,
Nor taste, nor colour they retain. Q .
Yet rivers 'twixt their banks do flow
Still fresh; can jealousy do so? A .
Yes, while she keeps the steadfast ground
Of hope and fear, her equal bound;
Hope, sprung from favour, worth, or chance,
Towards the fair object doth advance:
Whilst Fear as watchful sentinel
Doth the invading foe repel;
And Jealousy thus mixed doth prove
The season and the salt of Love.
But when Fear takes a larger scope,
Stifling the child of Reason, Hope;
Then sitting on the usurped throne,
She, like a tyrant, rules alone,
As the wild ocean unconfined,
And rages as the Northern wind.