Cold shivering agues, melancholy care,
  And bitter blasting winds, and poison’d air,
  Are mine, and wilful death, resulting from despair. 
  The throttling quinsey ’tis my star appoints,
  And rheumatisms ascend to rack the joints: 
  When churls rebel against their native prince,
  I arm their hands, and furnish the pretence;
  And housing in the lion’s hateful sign, 410
  Bought senates, and deserting troops are mine. 
  Mine is the privy poisoning; I command
  Unkindly seasons, and ungrateful land. 
  By me kings’ palaces are push’d to ground. 
  And miners crush’d beneath their mines are found. 
  ’Twas I slew Samson, when the pillar’d hall
  Fell down, and crush’d the many with the fall. 
  My looking is the sire of pestilence,
  That sweeps at once the people and the prince. 
  Now weep no more, but trust thy grandsire’s art, 420
  Mars shall be pleased, and thou perform thy part. 
  ’Tis ill, though different your complexions are,
  The family of heaven for men should war. 
  The expedient pleased, where neither lost his right;
  Mars had the day, and Venus had the night. 
  The management they left to Chronos’ care;
  Now turn we to the effect, and sing the war.

    In Athens all was pleasure, mirth, and play,
  All proper to the spring, and spritely May: 
  Which every soul inspired with such delight, 430
  ’Twas jesting all the day, and love at night. 
  Heaven smiled, and gladded was the heart of man;
  And Venus had the world as when it first began. 
  At length in sleep their bodies they compose,
  And dreamt the future fight, and early rose.

    Now scarce the dawning day began to spring,
  As at a signal given, the streets with clamours ring: 
  At once the crowd arose; confused and high,
  Even from the heaven, was heard a shouting cry;
  For Mars was early up, and roused the sky. 440
  The gods came downward to behold the wars,
  Sharpening their sights, and leaning from their stars. 
  The neighing of the generous horse was heard,
  For battle by the busy groom prepared: 
  Rustling of harness, rattling of the shield,
  Clattering of armour, furbish’d for the field. 
  Crowds to the castle mounted up the street,
  Battering the pavement with their coursers’ feet: 
  The greedy sight might there devour the gold
  Of glittering arms, too dazzling to behold:  450
  And polish’d steel, that cast the view aside,
  And crested morions, with their plumy pride. 
  Knights, with a long retinue of their squires,
  In gaudy liveries march, and quaint attires. 
  One laced the helm, another held the lance: 
  A third the shining buckler did advance. 
  The courser paw’d the ground with restless feet,