Fantom.
See Ghost.

Then (wondrous to behold!) the Goddess arms
A visionary Fantom, light, and vain,
From a thin Cloud, chang'd to Æneas' Shape:
Decks it with Trojan Darts: his Shield, and Crest,
And all the Honours of his God--like Head
Dissembles: gives it empty Words, and Sound:
And forms its Steps, and Manner, as it walks.
Such Figures, as tis said, departed Ghosts
Flutt'ring assume: or mimic Dreams by Night.
In the first Van th' exulting Shade provokes
The Hero, and with Darts, and Voice defies.
Turnus advances fierce: and hurls from far
A whistling Lance: The recreant Spirit flies.
Close to the Covert of a lofty Rock
A Ship by Chance there stood, with Ladders hung,
And Bridges laid: To this with hasty Steps,
The trembling Image of Æneas flies,
And in its Hatches lurks. With Haste no less
Turnus pursues, all Obstacles surmounts,
And passes o'er the Bridges: When the Deck
He scarce had reach'd, Saturnia bursts the Cords,
And speeds the Vessel thro' the rolling Deep.
--And now the mimic Form
No longer lurks conceal'd: but mounts in Air
Aloft, and mingles with a dusky Cloud;
While Turnus in mid Ocean wasted sails.--
Fate.
See Chance. God. Foreknowledge. Providence.

--In vain, fair Daughter, you essay
To o'er--rule Destiny's unconquer'd Sway:
Your Doubts to banish, enter Fate's Abode:--
There you shall see the Records grav'd, in length,
On Ir'n and solid Brass, with mighty Strength:
Which Heav'n's and Earth's Concussion shall endure:
Mauger all Shocks, eternal, and secure:
There, on e'erlasting Adamant, design'd,
The various Fortunes of your Race you'll find.--

Forbear to hope the Destinies divine
Can ever with Intreaties be subdu'd.--

Fix'd stands the Date of mortal Lives: the Space
Is short, and irretrievable to All.--

Great Jove himself the equal Ballance holds,
And poises in it's Scales the Fates of both:
One with Success is charg'd: and one descends
Loaded with Death.--

Mortals, your Minds of anxious Cares unload,
Nor fruitlesly the Woes of Life bewail:
Fate governs worldly Things: and fixt by Fate
Is all that haps thro' long revolving Years.
Our Death's fore--doom'd the Moment We are born,
And the last Hour depends upon the first.
Then, Wealth to some, and Kingdoms are decreed;
But Poverty to most: The Mind to Arts,
Or Manners, then is turn'd; to Vice, or Virtue.
Then too the Evil and the Good of Life
Is all predestin'd: for from it's Share of Evil
No Life's exempt: tho' more than what's fore--doom'd
None possibly can suffer.--Prayers nor Vows
Ill Fortune can suspend, nor Flight avoid:
But All must bear the Hardships Fate decrees.--

Besides, th' unnatural Civil Wars of Rome,
Are Proofs of Fate's inevitable Doom.
See Marius ride, with Cimbrian Lawrels crown'd,
Then in the Dungeon, stretch'd upon the Ground:
Now Slave, now Consul: Consul, Slave again:
His Curule Chair succeeded by a Chain.
Now a mean Ruin, on the Lybian Sands,
Despis'd he lies: and now the World commands:
Sudden, from the Minturnian Pools he rose,
And scatter'd Vengeance on his haughty Foes.
Changes thus strange, and much for Chance too great,
Are not th' Effects of Fortune, but of Fate.--

Who, Pompey, could (that saw thy conq'ring Fleet
Regain the Seas, and Kings beneath thy Feet,
Proud Pontus yield, fierce Tyrants make thy Train,
And suppliant Monarchs beg thy Leave to reign;
That saw victorious Lawrels crown thy Head,
And conquer'd Worlds in thy three Triumphs led:
And all that Glory which thy Sword had won
Fixt, and supported by as great a Son,)
Have thought that Thou, upon a foreign Sand,
Should'st steal a Burial from a common Hand:
That shatter'd Planks, the Seas dishonest Spoil,
Should hiss beneath thy Trunk, and be thy Pile?
That Thou, the mighty Thou, should'st want an Urn?
What Power, but Fate, could work so strange a Turn?

E'en Caesar sprung from Heav'n, and now a Star,
Tho' midst the Dangers of the Civil War
Secure he stood--
Yet crown'd with Peace, in all his mighty State,
He fell, a Victim to o'er--ruling Fate:
Not mere Suspicions, but clear Proofs were brought,
He knew what Cassius spoke, and Brutus thought:
How far advanc'd, how far they meant to go,
And saw the Minute of the fatal Blow:
Yet dark Oblivion did his Reason blot,
He all his Warnings, and Himself forgot:
And in the Senate, while his Right Hand held
The faithful Paper which the Plot reveal'd,
To prove that Fate does all the World controul,
He fell, and with his Blood effac'd the Scroll.--

--If Fate does so ordain,
A slight Disease destroys, while greater spare,
Good Methods fail, and Men are lost by Care:
Some, temperate Diet with Diseases fills,
And Poison's innocent, when Physick kills.--

Successless Virtue sinks, while Vice prevails:
And Folly wins the Prize, when Prudence fails.
He argues ill, that from the Fortune draws,
The Goodness, or the Badness, of a Cause:
Success on Merit does not always wait;
Both Good and Bad are found amongst the Great.
But some Almighty Pow'r's impetuous Force
Marks out the Way, and still directs the Course:
The Years that we must run; the Length, the Pace,
And all the various Turnings of the Race.--

Besides, were not Events by Fate enroll'd,
How can their certain Order be foretold?
How can the Prophets sing of future Doom,
And, in the present, read the Age to come.--

Nor does this Reasoning Wickedness defend,
Or rob fair Virtue of it's happy End.
Who ever lik'd the more a pois'nous Weed,
Because 'tis bred from necessary Seed?
Or who loves Corn the less, who hates the Vine,
Because produc'd by Nature, not Design?
Thus virtuous Minds deserve the greater Love,
Since doom'd to act what Heaven must approve:
And we should hate those most whom Fate has sent
Crimes to commit, and suffer Punishment:
For Crimes, from whatsoever Cause they flow,
Are still the same:--since that they're Crimes We know.--

When You, ye Gods! are pleas'd to plague Mankind,
Our own rash Hands are to the Task assign'd:
By You ordain'd the Tools of Fate to be,
We blindly act the Mischiefs You decree:
We call the Battle, We the Sword prepare,
And on ourselves draw on the dreadful War.--

Sore sigh'd the anxious Chief, who well could read
Some dire Delusion by the Gods decreed:
He saw the Fates malignantly inclin'd,
To thwart his Purpose, and perplex his Mind.--

The Fates embrace his Knees, with Hands that twine
The Lot of all Things, human, and divine:
And from the Threads on their eternal Reel,
Whate'er shall hap thro' endless Ages deal.--
Faults.
See Detraction.

But some may cry, have You no Faults at all?
Yes, other Faults, and not perhaps so small.--
When Maenius rail'd at Novius, how, says One,
Dost know thyself, or think thy Faults unknown?
Pho, pho, says Maenius,--I forgive my own.
This is a foolish, and a wicked Love,
Such as the keenest Satyr should reprove.
While thou art blind and senseless to thy own,
How dost thou find another's Faults so soon,
That scarce a Serpent can so quickly spy,
Or any Eagle hath so sharp an Eye?
But still go on: pursue thy mean Design,
Shew Others Faults,--and they will shew thee thine.--

We all our Frailties share, and he's the best,
Most happy he, who's loaded with the least.
Those then, who would not have their Sores offend,
Ought not to fret the Pimples of a Friend:
And surely, 'tis but just, that he, who'd claim
A candid Cov'ring where he proves to blame,
Should to an erring Neighbour grant the same.--
Fear.
See Fright. Panic.

--Surpriz'd with Fear he back
Recoil'd, and with his Speech repress'd his Steps.
Like one, who, unawares, in prickly Thorns
Has trod upon a Snake: And starting fled
Him rousing all his Venom, and with Rage
Heaving his speckled Neck.--

I take th' Alarm, while Horrors reign around,
At ev'ry Breeze, and start at ev'ry Sound.
Now, to the City Gates approaching near,
I seem the Noise of trampling Feet to hear.
My frighted Sire look'd forward thro' the Shade,
And, fly my Son: they come, they come, he said:
Lo! from their Shields I see the Splendors stream,
And ken distinct the Helmet's fiery Gleam.--

With Hearts dejected my Companions stood,
And sudden Horrors froze their curdling Blood:
Down drop the Shield and Spear; from Fight we cease,
And humbly sue by suppliant Vows for Peace.--

Her Colour and her Voice forsake the Fair,
And thrice her trembling Feet for Flight prepare:
But still in vain, for Fear had fix'd 'em there.
She shook, like Blades of Corn, when Tempests blow:
Or slender Reeds that in the Marshes grow.--

So fares a Sailor on the stormy Main,
When Clouds conceal Boötes' golden Wain:
When not a Star it's friendly Lustre keeps,
Nor trembling Cynthia glimmers on the Deeps:
He dreads the Rocks, and Shoals, and Seas, and Skies,
While Thunder roars, and Lightning round him flies.--

Mean time on trembling Pinions thro' the Skies,
To Mount Palatium frighted Rumour flew,
And to astonish'd Rome these Tidings bore:--
A hostile Fleet is riding on the Main;
And o'er the Alps, with German Conquests flush'd,
The vengeful Legions pour on guilty Rome.
Strait Fire, and Sword, and all the dreadful Train
Of Civil Rage, before their Eyes appear!
Distracting Tumults ev'ry Bosom sway'd,
And Reason 'midst the dubious Fears was lost.
This flies by Land: That rather trusts the Seas,
As far less dang'rous than his native Shores:
These run to Arms: Fate aids the wild Affright,
And each obeys the Guidance of his Fears.
No certain Course the giddy Vulgar know,
But thro' the Gates in throng'd Confusion crowd,
And rival Terror:--Rome to Rumour yields,
And weeping Romans leave their native Seats.
This in his Hand his trembling Children leads;
And This his Gods within his Bosom hides,
His long--lov'd Threshold quits with mournful Looks,
And wings his Curses at the absent Foe.
There on the Husband's Breast, the Bride complains:
And here, his Father's Age a pious Youth
Supports with filial Care, nor feels his Load,
Nor fears but for his venerable Charge.
While These, insensate! to the Field convey
Their treasur'd Wealth, and glut the War with Spoil.

As on the deep when stormy Auster blows,
And mounts the Billows with tumultuous Rage,
Th' affrighted Seamen ply their Arts in vain:
The Pilots stand aghast: These lash their Sails:
While These make Land, and Those avoid the Shores,
And give up all to giddy Fortune's Pow'r.--
Fidelity.

He to the Shrines of Faith his Steps address'd.
She, pleas'd with Secrets rolling in her Breast,
Far from the World remote, revolv'd on high,
The Cares of Gods, and Counsels of the Sky.
E'er Jove was born she grac'd the bright Abodes,
Consort of Justice, boast of Men and Gods:
Without whose heavenly Aid, no Peace below,
The stedfast Earth, and rolling Ocean, know.--

While Earth the Seas shall in her Bosom bear,
While Earth herself shall hang in ambient Air,
While Phoebus shall his constant Task renew,
While thro' the Zodiac Night shall Day pursue;
No Faith, no Trust, no Friendship shall be known
Among the jealous Partners of a Throne:
But he who reigns, shall strive to reign alone.--

If, now, a Friend does not deny his Trust,
But the old Purse restores with all it's Rust,
'Tis a prodigious Faith! and ought in Gold
Among the Tuscan Annals be inroll'd:
And a crown'd Lamb should sacrificed be
To such a wonderful Integrity.--
Fidelity Conjugal.
See Constancy.

Her Answer was, oft as my Suit I press'd;
For one, alone, I guard this spotless Breast;
To one, where--e'er he is, from me disjoyn'd,
The Wishes of my Soul are all confin'd.--

--Whoe'er Thou art,
Another holds, says he, my captive Heart.
Long may she there th' unrivall'd Mistress reign,
Nor will I e'er my nuptial Faith prophane,
Or wrong her Love: so long as Nature gives
Life to this Frame, and charming Canens lives.—