Classic Poem

When this appears, his rising beams presage
Ungovern'd Fury, and unruly Rage;
A flaming Anger, universal Hate
With Jealousie make up his Births unhappy Fate:
Each little Cause doth scorching Thoughts inspire,
Their Soul's inflam'd, and Words break out in Fire:
Yet crowd so fast, they justle as they rise,
And part flies out in Sparkles through their Eyes.
Their Tongue's on Foam, and with their Teeth they break
Their Words, and Bark when they design to Speak .
Besides, excess in Wine inflames their Fire,
And Bacchus makes their Fury blaze the higher.
They fear no Rocks, nor Woods, but love to Gore
The furious Lion, and the Foaming Boar;
They dread no Beasts, but with blind Warmth engage,
And to their natural strength infuse their Rage:
Nor is it strange that from his Beams should rise
Such Tempers; for above through yielding Skies
Averse to Peace, he cuts his furious way,
And hunts the Hare , intent upon his Prey.