The Unfortunate PHAETON, Or the Fall of AMBITION, An HEROICK POEM.
Written by a Person of Quality.
Licensed
January the 29th. 1685.
R. P.
LONDON, Printed for S. Norris, and are to be Sold by the Booksellers of London and Westminster, 1686.
The Unfortunate PHAETON, Or the Fall of AMBITION, &c.
THE Storm that Tost the yielding Waves alay'd,
And Calmness o're the Face of Nature spread;
With all the Charms of Peace I courted Rest,
Till kinder Fate had lodg'd it in my Breast;
Which made me stand as Shipwrack'd Saylors do,
On safeties Rock, and Conquer'd dangers view:
Revolving all degrees of thought that move
In Mortal minds, compos'd of fear and love:
Whilst wakeful Fancy, that no slumber knows
Unnumber'd things in their Idea shows;
Some bright, some dark, some less than others far,
As Shrubs to Cloud-invadeing Ceders are,
Or as the Globe to the first moveing Star.
[Page 4] Some seeming Pomp adorn'd, and some were meek
As Pilgrims, that Eternal Mansions seek.
Amongst the rest, and foremost of the Train,
Ambition stood, both Men and Angels Baen,
The great disturber of the World, yet stood
The courted shaddow of a real good;
Delusion deck't him out to that degree,
He Seem'd the Counterfeit of Royalty:
An Aire of Greatness gain'd the first surprize,
And short live'd favours darted from his Eyes,
Vain Glory and False Hope around him flew,
And Real Honour stood aloft in view;
But betwixt him and it by th' smallest Thread,
A fatal Sword hung trembling o're his Head,
And all his way with mighty Ruin spread;
Trophies of sad misfortunes on each Hand,
Proclaim'd his Pajeant Glories cou'd not stand;
This made me wonder how Mankind cou'd be
Besoted into such Credulity;
How such Alurements cou'd Intice the Great,
To cast themselves into the Arms of Fate,
And it's decrees seek to Anticipate.
[Page 5] As when a Vulter greedy of his Prey,
A sleeping Serpent strives to steal away,
But in that rash surprize he finds his own,
And by the waking Serpent is undone.
'Tis strange that Man shou'd in such folly fall,
Who is so proud of being Rational,
To Court a thing, which like Circean Charms,
The Reason into Monstrous shapes transforms,
To seek with toil, what no content can yeild,
A Luscious Poison that has numbers kill'd.
What Marriner that Rides on Ruffl'd Waves,
Wou'd choose to Sail where Barking Sylla Raves?
Or on Charibidis dreadful Shoals wou'd stand,
Where scatter'd Ship-wracks spread the Bloody Sand,
When he on Halcion Seas might make his way,
Yet thus does he, Ambition leads Astray;
A Slave he's at that grand Destroyers will,
And what he bids him do, he must fulfill.
As when a head-strong Horse has got the Rein,
The Riders rule is lost, he storms in vain,
[Page 6] In vain he strives, the Creature won't obey,
But his at that time is his Horses way,
As Phaetons was, that needs wou'd Guide the day:
The Young Man thought it was no more then Ride,
The Glory basl'd all his thoughts beside:
Paternal care and tenderness in vain
His mad Carreir endeavour'd to restrain;
Hot on his bold resolves to mount a Throne,
All Honours else to him but dimly Shone;
But what insu'd? A mighty Ruin: Why,
If Tales by true, he burnt the Earth and Skie,
His blazing Team too fiercly lead him on,
Till in that Mischief he was over-thrown:
The forked Thunder met him in his way,
And put a stop to the Ʋserpers sway:
Whilst from his burning Chaire of State he's hurl'd,
A Blazing Commet to the Lower World:
The Loud-mouth'd Thunder bid the Ruin cease,
And in Ambitions fall gave Nature peace.
So we of late, beheld the Mad-brain'd Crew,
Their hapless Phaeton by their Breath undoo:
[Page 7] Ambitions Poison Wing'd with fond Aplause,
The Head-strong Youth to certain Ruin draws:
A forfeit life restor'd, or favours great,
Such as upon the Smiles of Monarcks wait,
Had not the power to stay him from his fate.
How blind is Man, that sucks this Poison in,
'Tis such a Vice, so dear a Darling Sin,
That Reason's forc'd to give the Monster way,
And suffer under it's Tyranick sway;
'Twas that made Caesar and great Pompy Jar,
Who scatter'd all the World with Civil War,
And on Aemathean Plains Writ large in Blood,
That in Ambition there can be no good:
'Tis that which wounds the Soul and lets out Rest,
Raising a Civil War within the Breast,
And hurries all the Faculties about
In such Confusion, as when Troops in Rout
Are scatter'd by the fierce pursuing Foe,
Who flesh'd with Slaughter can no pitty show;
Or as a Sea provok'd by Fighting Winds,
In Waves Tumultuous all her Water finds.
[Page 8] Yet with this Madness some were wonderous pleas'd,
They powerful Cordials scorn'd that wou'd have eas'd,
And glori'd With such Phrenzie to be seiz'd.
So a poor Lunatick of sense bereft,
Knows not in what a sad Estate he's left,
And one thing in that great distress may be
A Comfort, cause he knows not's Misery;
But in his hot-brain'd Fits himself deceives
With thoughts of greatness, which he then believes
Stands in his way, and that he has Command
As some great Monarch, over Sea and Land:
Thus Airey Pride the Mad-men do Pursue,
And these ar'th'Dreams of the Ambitious too.
The Man that makes his Gold his God, we hate,
Or he that Kills his Neighbour for's Estate:
The Crafty underminer Men abhor,
And Wounds in Peace, are worse than Wounds in War;
Yet Soul-destroying Averice, Cruelty,
Fraud, Mallice, all in Black Ambition ly:
As in Rebellions Hydra late appear'd,
An Hydra which it's Heads but faintly rear'd;
[Page 9] Yet different ways to Mischief they inclin'd,
And studdy'd Ruin allways to Man-kind.
Aspireing Thoughts, and hope of Gain were there,
Rapin and Burning Lust durst claim a share,
And Impious Sacrelidge with horrid hands,
Which Indians dread, and Africks swarthy bands:
A thing the wild Arabians allways fly,
And all the World that owns a Deity.
There, sweet Revenge was closely hugg'd, and all
We can the Spawn of Damn'd Ambition call:
Nay more, A challenge up to Heav'n was sent,
As if they Gyant-like to storm it meant;
A Chalenge or bold Claim, such as cou'd ne'r
Without Revenge pierce the Almighties Ear,
A bold Presumption, in so bad a Cause,
In Derogation to his Sacred Laws.
His Anger slept not, when their Wish was heard,
But in their Ruin, he his Justice clear'd;
He, unto whom all darkness is as day,
Whose Eyes abstrusest things with ease survey,
Observ'd those Men, who durst have lay'd the Guilt
[Page 10] Of Blood, Ingloriously, they wou'd have spilt,
To Heavens charge, and through the dismal Gloom,
Kind Providence discover'd things to come,
The wakeful Genius of the Nations gave
A timely notice to the bold and brave,
And over-set the Fate that seem'd to Low'r,
By blasting quite Ambitions feeble Pow'r.
Scarce had the Fallen Sun declyn'd the West,
Scarce India view'd it's Glory in the East,
And we Impatient, waited it's uprise,
To Deck with Infant Beams the darkned Skies.
No Silver Moon shot Pale Beams into Night,
Whose Lustur by the Shade was Vanquisht quite,
But dimly shin'd the scatter'd Seeds of Light:
A sullen Silence o're the Plain was spread,
Each drowsy Hill appear'd to Nod it's Head,
All things were still, as Natures self were Dead.
When arm'd with Rage, the Mad-braind Rout came on,
Push'd by the forward Fates to be undone,
O'rewelm'd in sleep, they thought the Camp to find,
And easie Victory possest each mind;
[Page 11] Soft were their steps, as those of Lovers are,
Who wou'd be secret, and each shaddow fear,
Who strangely startle at each Noise they hear,
The Mannag'd Silence promis'd them success,
But he who ne'r Rebellious Arms wou'd bless,
Who ne'r cou'd be indus'd to Wink at Sin,
Let them perceive what Errour they were in.
A Thirst of Glory conquer'd Somnus Charms,
And kept the wakeful Heroes at their Arms,
Ready to Cope, when Wars dread Front appeard,
And Rustick Clamour through the Gloom was heard.
All nimble in their Motion, Train'd to do
The Mighty Work, that Fame had call'd 'em to.
Eagar to Act, and fearless of the Foe,
They counted their aproaching March too flow.
Glad were they when they saw that Heav'n gave way
To their desires, and War in prospect lay,
Scarce for the Signal wou'd their Courage stay,
But seem'd uneasie, till their Arms had try'd
The justice of their cause, and quel'd the Pride
Of those Aspirers, who with Gyant-might,
Thought to possess themselves of Heav'n by Fight.
[Page 12] And now no more than Neptunes Tribute-stream,
With silent Silver, Interpos'd between.
To Pause they stand, not but each active Hand,
Waits to give Death upon the first Command:
And now loud shouts begin the Aire to wound,
Th'Alarms beat, and all the Trumpets sound:
The noise of shouting Soldiers, pierce the Skie,
Above the stormy Clouds the Clamours fly,
Whilst Neighbouring Caverns Eccho back the sound,
And from the Hills the mingl'd Cryes rebound.
Night vows no more, the Breathing Flame gives day,
And Wing'd with Fire, the Bolts of Thunder stray,
That scatter'd Ruin, in their Fatal way.
Whilst on the Plains, the scatter'd Rebels ly,
And their late Spoiles, with dear Repentance buy,
The futal Flashes let them see their woe,
And many Deaths presage their over-throw;
The Blood that from a thousand Wounds was shed,
The Grass discolour'd with a duskie Red;
Yet prompted by Dispair, they boldly stood,
And Deaths large Gaps with other Lives made good,
[Page 13] As knowing on that Cast their safety lay,
That Ruin follow'd, if they lost the day.
Nor was Young Phaeton wanting to express
His utmost Conduct, nor in danger less
Expos'd himself, though 'gainst the Fates, in vain
He strove, for what he never must obtain.
Those Missile Arms, that Untrained Rusticks held,
Stood only Ciphers in the Bloody Field,
To give him in their Fall a full survey,
In how great breadths his hapless Ruin lay,
To let him see in his too late distress,
How Black Ambition had destroy'd his Peace,
And how by his Disloyalty, he stood
The Curse of Ruin'd bad-men, and the Scorn o'th good,
The Rebel Horse by this time Rang'd at large,
But found themselves too weak to stand the Charge,
Pale Fear had witherd all their strength, and drain'd
Them of that Vigor once in them remain'd;
As soon as e're some Wounded Horse had thrown
Their Riders, and their Bodies Trampl'd on,
The Horse-men left the Field, the Fight they shun,
Or turning Reins upon their Fellows, run.
[Page 14] Driven they were, thus Thunder-struck pursu'd,
And in a Trice quite broken and subdu'd:
When to the truly Loyal Heroes Aide,
With heavy pace the deep mouth'd Cannons made,
And loud in Thunder, Slaughter did proclaim,
Whilst all the Field seem'd one great Camp of flame,
And Clouds of Smoak, the Blushing Morne o're-spread,
Which now began to rise from Thetis Bed:
Loudly they spoke, and with outragious Rore,
The yielding Air in parts unnumber'd Tore;
Whilst Iron Globes, that Mortal might can't stay,
Through o're thrown Ranks took their destroying way,
And mov'd with Whirl-winds-speed, no Arms cou'd be
'Gainst those destroyers, a security.
And now the Horse that had nought else to do,
Amongst the broken Ranks like Lightning flew,
So that the War to a sad Period drew:
For with the shade the Rebels lest the Field,
Blushing with th' Blood of those that there were kill'd;
And with their Phaeton, whom they durst obey,
They met their Fates, though in another way.
[Page 15] Thus great Jehovah, great Deliv'rance wrought,
And bold Ambition to Destruction brought;
Thus fail'd it of it's much desired end,
In vain do Mortal men with Heav'n contend,
Improsperous are their Plots and dark Designs,
He Thrives not, that 'gainst Heav'ns Decrees Combines,
But sinks into the Arms of foul Disgrace,
And Honours Image basely does deface;
He Robs himself of Rest, and Courts his Pain,
And swallows Guilded Poison, that's his Paine,
Of which fond Rashness, men too oft complain:
Yet like the man, that in a tossing storm,
Puts up his Prayers, and vows he will reform,
Vows to forsake each Darling Vice, but when
The Winds are out of Breath, the Seas again
Assume their former Calmness, he forgets,
And little by his Obligation sets.
So we deceive our selves, till we are lost,
And sadly know what such neglect has cost;
Unvaluable Peace wou'd men but prize,
In which for certain there no danger lies,
The World wou'd all be turn'd to Paradice,
[Page 16] The Golden Age again wou'd be restor'd,
Yet Virtue more than Gold wou'd be ador'd;
But restless men this Theam can never please,
Who if they cou'd, wou'd scorn to live at ease,
But like Old Nerites, allways love to Rave,
And ne're be seen, but on a Tossing-Wave,
Much like that Indian Mouse, who to fulfill
The dire Revenge of it's Insatiate will,
The largest of all Creatures loves to kill;
Though by the Fall of that unwildy Beast,
It self to unavoided Death is prest.
Or like the Serpent that through Fire will run,
The Antidote of Poisons force to shun.
Strange these may seem, but true too oft they'r found,
And in the Soul make an Inglorious Wound.
Disturb the frame o'th' little World, and bring
Ten thousand mischiefs, which they fiercely fling,
As Curst Pandoras Box 'mongst men was hurl'd,
Frought with those Plagues that now Disease the World.
FINIS.