Classic Poem

1

What's this that shrouds
In these opacous clouds,
The glorious face of heav'n, and dims our light?
What must we ever lye,
Mantled in dark stupidity?
Still groveling in a daily night?
And shall we have no more the sun allow'd?
Why does the sun grow dim? or do the stars grow proud?

2

Why should false zeal
Thus scorch our common-weale,
And make us slight bright Phebus purer fires?
Why do these plannets run?
They would, but cannot be the Sun,
Yet every saucy flame aspires
Though they've no reason to affect the same,
Since they have nought of fire, but the meer rage and name.

3

Now since our Sun
Has left this Horizon,
Can all the stars though by united pow'r,
Undark the night,
Or equal him in light?
And yet they blaze to make him lowre
That star that looks more red then others are,
Is a prodigious Comet and a blazing star.

4

The World's undone,
When stars oppose the sun,
And make him change his constant course to rest;
His foaming Steeds,
Flying those daring deeds,
I'th' stables of the North or West,
Whence we may fear he'l never more return,
To light and warme us, with his rayes, but all to burn.

5

Heav'n made them all,
Yet not Anarchical,
But in degrees and orders they are set;
Should they all be
In a grand Committee,
In heavens painted chamber, yet
Sol would out shine them: guide me Phoebus ray,
And let those Lantherns keep their borrowed light away.

6

Let's not admire
This new phantastick fire;
That our vain eyes deceives and us misleads,
Those Bares we see
That would our Lyons be,
Want tailes, and will want heads
The world will soon into destruction run,
When bold blind Phaetons guide the chariot of the sun.