Policy of State.
To strictest Justice many Ills belong,
And Honesty is often in the Wrong:
Chiefly when stubborn Rules her Zealots push,
To favour those whom Fortune means to crush.
But thou, Oh royal Ptolemy! be wise:
Change with the Gods, and fly whom Fortune flies.
Not Earth from yon high Heav’n which we admire,
Not from the watry Element the Fire,
Are sever’d by Distinctions half so wide,
As Int’rest and Integrity divide.
The mighty Pow’r of Kings no more prevails,
When Justice comes with her deciding Scales:
Freedom for all Things, and a lawless Sword,
Alone support an arbitrary Lord.
He that is cruel, must be bold in Ills,
And find his Safety from the Blood he spills.
For Piety, and Virtue’s starving Rules,
To mean Retirements let ’em lead their Fools:
There may they still ingloriously be good:
None can be safe in Courts, who blush at Blood.
The Prudent on the Prosp’rous still depends,
And, none but Fools, chuse Wretches for their Friends.–
Trust not a Pow’r accustom’d to be Great,
And vers’d in wicked Policies of State.
Old Kings long harden’d in the regal Trade,
By Int’rest and by Craft alone are sway’d:
But new Ones make some Conscience of their Trust,
And to their People are benign and just.–
Popularity.
Careful to purchase popular Applause,
And gain the giddy Vulgar to his Cause:
He knew the constant Practice of the Great,
That those who court the Vulgar, bid them eat.
When pinch’d with Want, all Rev’rence they withdraw:
For hungry Multitudes obey no Law.
Thus therefore Factions make their Parties good,
And buy Authority and Pow’r with Food.–
Portents. Prodigies.
See Omens.
The Gods can’t alter Fate’s resistless Will:
But They, by Signs, foretell th’ approaching Ill.
Dreadful were heard, among the Clouds, Alarms
Of ecchoing Trumpets, and of clashing Arms.
The Sun’s pale Image gave so faint a Light,
That the sad Earth was almost veil’d in Night.
The starry Sky with fiery Meteors glow’d,
And with the Rain were mingled Drops of Blood,
A dusky Hue the Morning Star o’erspread,
And the Moon’s Orb was stain’d with Spots of Red.
In ev’ry Place portentous Shrieks were heard,
The fatal Warnings of th’ infernal Bird:
In ev’ry Place the Marble melts to Tears:
While in the Groves, rever’d thro’ length of Years,
Boding and aweful Sounds the Ear invade,
And solemn Music warbles thro’ the Shade.
No Victims can the Wrath of Heav’n asswage:
The Intrails of the Sacrifice presage
Our Head cut off, and Tumult, War, and Rage.
Around each hallow’d Shrine, and sacred Dome,
Night–howling Dogs disturb the peaceful Gloom:
Their silent Seats the wandring Shades forsake,
And fearful Tremblings the rock’d City shake.–
The Sun, at Caesar’s Murder, pitying Rome,
With dusky Scurf obscur’d his beamy Head,
And impious Mortals fear’d eternal Night.
Tho’ at that Time Earth too, and spacious Seas,
And Dogs obscene, and ill–presaging Birds
Gave dire Portents. How oft have we beheld
Loud thund’ring
(Henry Baker)
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Based on Topics: God Poems, Night Poems, Light Poems, Sadness Poems, War & Peace Poems, Friendship Poems, Kings & Queens Poems, Fire Poems, Birds Poems, Wisdom & Knowledge Poems, Morning PoemsBased on Keywords: integrity, zealots, scurf, ptolemy, ingloriously, ecchoing, retirements, intrails, ill-presaging, night-howling