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Worn on the edge of days, the brass.confumes,
The bufto moulders, and the deep-cut marble,
Uniteady to the heel, gives up its charge.
Ambition, half convicted of her folly,
Hangs down the head, and reddens at the tale.

beneath the facrificer's knife: Weman thou bear the trite of little tongues, 4-4 award intuits of the bale-born crowd, The a privilege thou never hadst, By op'd for in the peaceful grave, Cheng unmolefted and alone. Anty's gums, and odoriferous drugs, And bears by the heralds duly paid Iz mode and form, ev`n to a very fcruple; Dealing thefe come too late; Antavaock whom they were meant to honor. bar, there's not a dungeon-flave that's buried in the way unshrouded and uncoffin'd, Bu sort, and ficeps as found, as he. preminence of high defcent

As the vulgar-born, to rot in state! [on, Bare the well-plum dhearfe comesnodding Suv rod „ow; and properly attended

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are ble tribe, that painful watch a. man's door, and live upon the dead, out their perfons by the hour

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Tow when the heart's not fad!' tetappings,now they're all unfurl'd g in the fun! triumphant entries , and coronition pomps, e exceed. Great gluts of people unwieldy thow; whilft from the

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ranksbehind ranks clofe wedg'd ge. But tell us, why this wafte? Warsado in earthing up a carcafe

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into dilgrace, and in the noftril › Bombe? Ye undertakers! tell us, Le gorgeous figures you exhibit, principal conceal'd, for which Bemis mighty itir? 'Tis wifely done: fend the eye in a good picture, The Posters difcreetly into fhades. , now how little thou appear'ft! tomy of the private man! Farddicione officious ill,

Pen to death, nor there stops fhort. gt precution! when the grave itself Pasion from rude fufferance.

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ard to think to over-reach the grave,!
the wreck of names to rescue ours!
oncerted schemes men lay for fame
17: only themselves die fafter.
* fculptor, and the laurel bard,
infurers of eternal fame,
er little feeble aids in vain,

g pyramid, th' Egyptian's pride, of the world! whofe ipiky top ced the thick cloud, and long outliv'd haking of the winter's storm; laft by th' injuries of heav'n, with age, and furrow'do'er with years, cone with hieroglyphics crufted, O lamentable fight! at once Te base of whole ages lumbers down; and mil-fhapen length of ruins. lumns wrestle but in vain duing Time; her cank'ring hand cam deliberate malice wafteth them:

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Here all the mighty troublers of the earth,
Who fwam to fov'reign rule, thro' feas of blood;
Th'oppreilive, sturdy, man-deltroying villains,
Who ravag'd kingdoms,and laid empires waite,
And in a cruel wantonnefs of pow'r,
Thinn'd ftates of half their people, and gave up
To want the reit; now, like a storm that's spent
Lie huth'd, and meanly fneak behind thy covert.
Vain thought! to hide them from the gen❜ralfcorn
That haunts and dogs them like an injur'd ghoft
Implacable. Here too, the petty tyrant,
Whole fcant domains geographer ne'er notic'd,
And, well for neighb'ring grounds, of arm as
Who fix'd his iron talons on the poor, [fhort,
And grip'd them like fome lordly beat of prey,
Deaf to the forceful cries of gnawing hunger,
And piteous plaintive voice of mifery
(As if a flave was not a fhred of nature,
Of the fame common nature with his lord);
Nowtame and humble,like achild that'swhipp'd,
Shakes hands with duft, and calls the worm his
kiniman;

Norpleads his rankand birthright. Underground
Precedency's a jeft; vaffal and lord,
Grofsly familiar, fide by fide contume.

When felf-esteem, or others adulation, Would cunningly perfuade us wewere fomething Above the common level of our kind; [flatt'ry, The Grave gainlays the fmooth complexion'd And with blunt truth acquaints us what we are.

Beauty! thou pretty plaything! dear deceit ! That feals fo foftly o'er the tripling's heart, And gives it a new pulfe unknown before! The grave difcredits thee: thy charms expung'd, Thy rofes faded, and thy lilies foiì'd, What haft thou more to boast of? Will thy lovers Flock round thee now,to gaze & do thee homage? Methinks I fec thee with thy head low-laid; Whilft furfeited upon thy damask cheek, The high fed worm in lazy volumes roll'd, Riots unfcar'd. For this was all thy caution! For this thy painful labours at thy glass, T'improve thole charms,and keep them in repair, For whichthefpoilerthankstheenot? Foulfeeder! Coarfe fare and carrion please thee full as well, And leave as keen a relith on the fenfe. Look how the fair one weeps! the confcious tears Stand thick as dew-drops on the bells of flow`rs: Honeft effufion the fwoln heart in vain Works hard to put a glofs on its diftrefs.

Strength too! thou furly, and lefs gentle boast Of thofe that laugh loud at the village ring! A fit of common fickness pulls thee down, With greatereafe than e'er thou didsttheftripling That rafhly dar'd thee to th' unequal fight. What groan was that I heard? deepgroanindeed! With anguish heavy laden! let me trace it; From yonder bed it comes, where the ftrong man By ftronger arm belabour'd, gafps for breath

Book

Like a hard hunted beast. How his great heart] And vex'd them in the fire: nor fly, nor in
Beats thick! his roomy cheft by far too fcant
To give the lungs full play! what now avail
The ftrong-built finewy limbs, and well-fpread
fhoulders!

See how he tugs for life, and lays about him,
Mad with his pain! eager he catches hold
Of what comes next to hand, and grafps it hard,
Just like a creature drowning! hideous fight!
Oh! how his eyes stand out and stare full ghaftly!
Whilft the distemper's rank and deadly venom
Shoots like a burning arrow cross his bowels.
And drinkshismarrowup. Heard you thatgroan?
It was his last. See how the great Goliath,
Just like a childthat brawl'ditfelf to reft, boalter!
Lies ftill. What mean'st thou then, O mighty
To vauntof nervesofthine? Whatmeans the bull,
Unconscious of his strength, to play the coward,
And flee before a feeble thing like man;
That, knowing well the flackness of his arm,
Trufts only in the well-invented knife!
With ftudy pale, and midnight vigils fpent,
The far-furveying fage clofe to his eye
Applies the fight-invigorating tube;
And

Nor writhy fnake, efcap'd thy deep refearch
Tell us thou doughty keeper from the grav
But why this apparatus? why this cost?
Where are thy recipes and cordials now,
With the long lift of vouchers for thy cure
Looks not more filly when the cheat's found
Alas! thou fpeakeft not. The bold impoft

Who meanly ftole, difcreditable shift!
Here, the lank-sided mifer, worst of felons
From back and belly too, their proper chee
To his own carcafe, now lies cheaply lodg'
Eas'd of a tax it irk'd the wretch to pay
Ner tedious bilis of charges and repairs.
By clam'rous appetites no longer teas'd,
But, ah! where are his rents, his comings in
Ay! now you've made the rich manpoor inde
Robb'd of his gods, what has he left behind
O curfed luft of gold! when for thy fake
The fool throws up his int'reft in both wor
Firft ftarv'd in this, then damn'd in that to co

How fhocking muft thy fummons be, O Dea
Thim that is at eafe in his poffeffions;
Who, counting on long years of pleasure he

trav'llingthro'theboundlesslengthoffpace, Is quite unfurnish'd for that world to come

Marks well the courfes of the far-feen orbs,
That roll with regular confufion there,
In ecfiacy of thought. But ah! proud man!
Great heights are hazardous to the weak head!
Soon, very foon,thy firmelt footing fails; [place,
And down thou dropp't into that darkfome
Where nor device nor knowledge ever came.
Here the tongue-warrior lies! difabled now,
Difarm'd,difhonour'd,like awretchthat'sgagg'd,
And cannot tell his ail to paffers-by. [change?
Great man of language whence this mighty
This dumb defpair, and drooping of the head?
Though ftrong perfuation hung on thy lip,
And fly infinuation's fofter arts
In ambush lay about thy flowing tongue:
Alas! how chop-fali'n now thick mifts and
Kett, like a weary cloud, upon thy breakfilence
Uncealing. Ah! where is the lifted arm,
The ftrength of action, and the force of words,
The well-turn'd period,andthe well-tun'dvoice,
With all the leffer ornaments of phrase?
Ah! fled for ever, as they ne'er had been!
Raz'dfrom the book of fame, or, more provoking,
Perhaps fome hackney, hunger-bitten fcribbler
Infults thy memory, and blots thy tomb
With long flat narrative, or duller rhimes
With heavy halting pace that drawl along;
Enough to route a dead man into rage,
And warm with red refentment the wan cheek.

Here the great matters of the healing art,
Thefe mighty mock defrauders of the tomb!
Spite of their julaps and catholicons,
Refign to fate. Proud fculapius' fon,
Where are thy boafted implements of art,
And all thy well-cramm'd magazines of health?
Nor hill, nor vale, as far as fhip could go,
Nor margin of the gravel-bottom'd brook,

p'd thy rifling hand: from ftubborn fhrubs Lo wrung ft tlicis thy retiring virtues out,

In that dread moment, how the frantic foul
Raves round the walls of her clay tenement,
But fhrieks in vain! how withfully the look
Runs to each avenue, and fhrieks for help,
On all the's leaving, now no longer her's!
A little longer, yet a little longer,
O might the ftay to wash away her ftains,
And it her for her paffage! mournful fight!
Her very eyes weep blood; and every groan
She heaves is big with horror: but the foe,
Like a staunch murd`rer steady to his purpo
Purines her clofe thro' ev'ry lane of life,
Nor mifles once the track, but presses on ;
Fill, forc'd at laft to the tremendous verge,
At once the finks to everlasting ruin.

What a ftrange moment muft it be, when ne
Sure, 'tis a ferious thing to die! my foul!
That awful gulf no mortal e'er repafs'd
Thy journey's end thou hast the gulf in view
To tell what's doing on the other fide!
Nature runs back, andinudders at the fight, [ing
For part they muft: body and foul muft part
And ev'ry life-string bleeds at thoughts of par
Fond couple! link 'dmoreclofe than weddedpai
This wings its way to its Almighty Source,
The witnefs of its actions, now its judge;
That drops into the dark and noisome grave,
Like a disabled pitcher, of no use.

If death was nothing, and nought after death
If, when men died, at once they ceas'd to be,
Returning to the barren womb of nothing,[che
Whencefirst they fprung; then might the debau
Untrembling mouth the heav'ns, then might the
drunkard

Reel over his full bowl, and when 'tis drain`d,
Fill up another to the brim, and laugh [wretch
That's weary of the world, and tir'd of life,
At the poor bug-bear Death; then might the
At once give each inquietude the flip,

By

A gentle tear; with mattock in his hand [ance
Digs thro' whole rows of kindred and acquaint-
By far his juniors! Scarce a fcull 's caft up,
But well he knew its owner, and can tell
Some paffage of his life. Thus, hand in hand,
The fot has walk'd with death twice twenty years;
Andyet ne'er younker on the greenlaughslouder,
Or clubs a fmuttier tale; when drunkards meet,
Nene fings a merrier catch, or lends a hand [not
More willing to his cup. Poor wretch! he minds
That foon fome trusty brother of the trade
Shall do for him what he has done for thousands.

By fagt of being when he pleas'd,
And by way; whether by hemp or steel:
Dart and doors ftand open Who could
The guest to fit out his full time, [force
Cimit he goes? Sure! he does well
That beles timelf as timely as he can,
When ade. But if there is an bereafter,
And that there is, confcience uninfluenc'd,
And ffer to peak out, tells ev'ry man,
The mud it be an awful thing to die;
More bad yet to die by one's own hand.
Seler name it not; our island's fhame,
Tereproach of neighb'ringftates.
Serving from her earliest dictate,
va, fall by her own act?
Fran let not upon disgust,
The faces hand be foully crimson'd o'er
Wadownlord. Dreadful attempt!
alatonlel-laughter, in a rage
The prefence of our Judge!
bag'd him to do his worit,
And this wrath. Unheard of tortures
for fuch: thefe herd together;
Thewan'd fhun their fociety,
Atatemfelves as riends lefs foul.
Gstic and all our days are number'd;
,we know not: this we know,
calmly wait the fummons,
Heav'n fhall give permiffion.
at keep their deftin'd ftand,
inted hour, till they're reliev'd.
ave who keep their ground,
telaft. To run away
's trick: to run away

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, that at the very worst
tr, thinking to mend ourselves
on a world unknown,

On this fide, and on that, men fee their friends
Drop off, like leaves in autumn; yet launch out
Into fantaftic fchemes, which three long livers
In the world's hale and undegen'rate days
Could fcarce have leifure for; fools that we are!
Never to think of death and of ourselves
At the fame time! as if to learn to die
Were no concern of ours. O more than fottish!
For creatures of a day, in gamefome mood
To frolic on eternity's dread brink,
Unapprehenfive; when for aught we know
The very firft fwoln furge fhall fweep us in.
Think we, or think we not, time hurries on
With a refiftless unremitting stream,
Yet treads more foft than e'er did midnight thief,
That flides his hand under the mifer's pillow,
And carries off his prize. What is this world?
What but a spacious burial-field unwall'd,
Strew'd with death's spoils, the fpoils of animals,
Savage and tame, and full of dead men's bones?
The very turf on which we tread once liv'd;
And we that live must lend our carcafes
To cover our own offspring: in their turns
They too muft cover theirs. 'Tis here all meet!
The thiv'ring Icelander, and fun-burnt Moor;
Men of all climes, that never met before;

Ang in the dark; 'tis mad:
perate as this.
Twill none of you in pity
tehind difclofe the fecret?
tous ghoft would blab it out,
and we must fhortly be.

I departed have fometimes
their death: 'twas kindlydone
eth' alarm. But what means
Twity 'tis but lame kindness
1ts to die? Do the ftrict laws
y halves. Why might you not
ty to bid your speaking

ice? I'll afk no more;
pia fepulchres, your thine
ourfelves: well-tis no matter:
Ame will clear up all,

tand as you are, and as clofe. sty thick! Here falls the village [round, And pamper'd lord! The cup goes Adil as to put it by? Te death had the majority;

te living lay it not to heart. der of the dead man's bed,

Teary-headed chronicle!

And of all creeds,the Jew,the Turk, the Christian.
Here the proud prince, and favourite yet prouder,
His fov'reign's keeper, and the people's scourge,
Are huddled out of fight. Here lie abath'd
The great negotiators of the earth,
And celebrated masters of the balance,
Deep read in stratagems, and wiles of courts:
Now vain their treaty-fkill! Death scorns to treat.
Here the o'erloaded flave flings down his burthen
From his gall'd shoulders; and when the cruel
tvrant,

With all his guards and tools of pow'r about him
Is meditating new unheard-of hardships,
Mocks his fhort arm,andquick asthought escapes,
Where tyrants vex not, and the weary reft.
Here the warm lover, leaving the cool fhade,
The tell-tale echo, and the bubbling stream,
Time out of mind the fav'rite feats of love,
Faft by his gentle mistress lays him down
Unblaited by foul tongue. Here friends and foes

Lie clofe, unmindful of their former feuds.
The lawn-rob'd prelate, and plain prefbyter,
Ere while that ftood aloof, as thy to meet,
Familiar mingle here, like fifter-streams
That fome rude interpofing rock had fplit.

&ting face, down which ne'er ftole Here is the large-limb'd peafant; here the child

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30

ELEGANT EXTRACTS,

Book 1.

Of a fpan long, that never faw the fun,
Nor prefs'd the nipple, ftrangled in life's porch:
Here is the mother with her fons and daughters;
The barren wife: the long-demurring maid,
Whofe lonely unappropriated sweets
Smil'd like yon knot of cowlips on the cliff,
Not to be come at by the willing hand.
Here are the prude fevere, and gay coquette,
The fober widow, and the young green virgin,
Cropp'd like a role before 'tis fully blown,
Or halfits worth difclos'd. Strange medley here!
Here garrulous old age winds up his tale;
And jovial youth, of lightfome vacant heart,
Whofe ev'ry day was made of melody, [threw,An error fatal not to him alone,
Hears not the voice of mirth; the thrill tongued
Meek as the turtle-dove, forgets her chiding.
Here are the wife, the gen'rous, and the brave;
The juft, the good, the worthlefs, the profane,
The downright clown, and perfectly well-bred;
The fool, the churl, the fcoundrel, and the mean,
The fupple ftatefman, and the patriot stern;
The wrecks of nations, and the fpoils of time,
With all the lumber of fix thousand years.

Evil he would needs try: nor tried in vain.
Sick of his blifs, and bent on new adventures,
Dreadful experiment! deftructive measure!
Where the work thing could happen, is fuccefs.
Stalk'd off reluctant, like an ill-us'd ghost,
Alas! too well he fped: the good he fcorn'd
Not to return; or, if it did, its vifits
Whilfttheblackdæmon, withthis hell-fcap'dtrain
Like thofe of angels fhort, and far between:
Grew loud and mutinous, nor would be gone;
Admitted once into its better room,
Lording it o'er the man, who now too late
Saw the rafh error which he could not mend;

But to his future fons, his fortune's heirs.
Inglorious bondage! human nature groans
Beneath a vaffalage fo vile and cruel,
And its vaft body bleeds through ev'ry vein.
Greatest and first of ills! the fruitful parent
Whathavock haft thou made, foul monster,Sin
Sorrow had never beeu. All noxious things
Of woes of all dimenfions! but for thee
Are kindly circumfcrib'd,and have their bounds
Of vileft nature, other forts of evils,
The fierce volcano, from its burning entrails
That belches molten ftone and globes of fire,
Involv'd in pitchy clouds of fmoke and stench
And there it stops. The big-fwoln inundation
Mars the adjacent fields for fome leagues round
Of mifchief more diffutive, raving loud,
Buries whole tracts of country, threat'ning mor
But that too has its fhore it cannot país.
More dreadful far than thefe, Sin has laid wafte
Difpatching at a wide-extended blow
Not here and there a country, but a world;
Entire mankind, and for their fakes defacing
A whole creation's beauty with rude hands;
Blafting the fruitful grain, the loaded branche
Accurfed thing! O where fhall fancy find
And marking all along its way with ruin.
A proper name to call thee by, expreffive
Of temper fo tranfcendantly malign,
Of all thy horrors? pregnant womb of ills!
That toads and ferpents of most deadly kind
Of ev'ry fize and fymptom, racking pains,
Compar'd to thee are harmlets. Sicknelles
And blueft plagues are thine! See how the fien
Profufely fcatters the contagion round! [heels
Whilft deep-mouth'd flaughter, bellowing at he

Poor man! how happy once in thy firft ftate!
When yet but warm from thy great Maker's hand,
He ftamp'd thee with his image, and well pleas'd
Smil'd on his laft fair work! Then all was well.
Sound was the body, and the foul ferene;
Like two fweet inftruments ne'er out of tune,
That play their feveral parts. Norhead, nor heart,
Offer'd to ache; nor was there caufe they should,
For all was pure within: no fell remorse,
Nor anxious caftings up of what may be,
Alarm'd his peaceful bofom: fummer feas
Shew not more fmooth when kifs'd by fouthern
Juft ready to expire. Scarce importun'd, [winds,
The gen'rous foil with a luxuriant hand
Offer'd the various produce of the year,
And ev'ry thing moft perfect in its kind.
Blefied, thrice bleffed days! but ah, how short!
Blefs'd as the pleafing dreams of holy men,
But fugitive, like thofe, and quickly gone.
O flipp ry ftate of things! What fudden turns,
What ftrange viciffitudes, in the first leaf
Of man's fad history! to-day inoft happy;
And, ere to-morrow's fun has fet, most abject!
How fcant the space between these vaft extremes!
Thus far'd it with our Sire: not long he enjoy'd
His paradife! fcarce had the happy tenant
Of the fair fpot due time to prove its fweets,Wades deep in blood new fpilt; yet for to-morrow
Or finn them up, when itraight he must be gone,
Ne'er to return again. And muft he go?
Can nought compound for the first dire offence
Of erring man? Like one that is condemn'd,
Fain would he trife time with idle talk,
And parley with his fate. But 'tis in vain.
Not all the lavifh odours of the place,
Offer'd in incenfe, can procure his pardon,
Or mitigate his doom. A mighty angel
With flaming fword forbids his longer stay,
And drives the loit'rer forth; nor muft he take
One laft and farewel round. At once he loft
His glory and his God. If mortal now,
And forely maim'd, no wonder! Man has finn'd.

5

Shapes out new work of great uncommon daring
But hold! I've gone too far; too much difcover'c
And inly pines till the dread blow is struck.
My father's nakedness, and nature's fhame.
Here let me paufe! and drop an honest tear,
One burst of filial duty, and condolence,
O'er all thofe ample deferts Death has spread,
This chaos of mankind. O great man-eater!
Whofe ev'ry day is carnival, not fated yet!
The verieft gluttons do not always cram;
Unheard-of epicure! without a fellow !
Some intervals of abftinence are fought
Methinks thecountless warmsthouhaftdevour'd.
To edge the appetite: thou feekelt none.

And

And thunds that each hour thou gobblest up, The est this, might gorge thee to the full. Banus itul, thou gap'ft for more: Lane, use days defrauded of his meals, (3 vom Lak bunger lays his skinny hand, and to keeneft eagerness his cravings Air Dieves, Malfacres, and Poison,

War, were not thy caterers)! Bet now that thou muftrender up thy dead, interest too! they are not thine; Bayt keening for a featon, 1 promis'd day of reftitution; Wadstrive found from brazen trump 36 cherub thall alarm thy captives, Archelong, long sleepers into life, Fanduberty.

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The gates fly open, and reveal They long formning under ground, attes immur'd; but now full ripe, Taser from the crucible, Mittautuis stood the torture of the fire, Tuaithe forge. We know, er of mankind,

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Text Gable fold. Him in thy pow'r bo'l; weif-vigorous he rofe, fty fetters, foon retook -1, Guntary yielʊing lent.

J

reatement from thy thrall!) Tarmo dhe fajourn'd here on earth, A few sumut dive to chofen witnesses By man mong, that the most flow affenting lett. This having done, renonnav'n. Methinks I fee him ghts, and glide along ne ng clouds: but the faint eye, chace, foon drops its hold, jaded with purfing. -de expand to let him in; ut cut: as fome great prince a procures admiffion, it was his royal will, there thould his followers be. * ween' a gloomy path! gloomy by our coward fears! aor tedious: the fatigue Befides, there's no by-road yike ill-condition'd children, feat hardships in the way purer air and fofter skies,

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fun? Fools that we are! e fweets unwith'ring bloom; * revoke, and will not go. apon a fummer's even,

hink a youngster play!
looks to ftem the tide!
Inte, next unrefolv'd,
toot; but as he dips
and he runs away
tream, unmindful now
t paint the further bank,

2 of late. Thrice welcome

Our bane turn'd to a bleffing! Death difarm'd
Lofes his feilnefs quite; all thanks to Him
Who fcourg'd the venom out! Sure the last end
Of the good man is peace. How calm his exit !
Night-dews fall not more gently to the ground,
Nor weary worn-out winds expire fo foft.
Behold him in the ev'ning-tide of life,
A life well-fpent, whofe early care it was,
His riper years fhould not upbraid his green :
By unperceiv'd degrees he wears away;
Yet like the fun feems larger at his fetting!
High in his faith and hopes,look! how he reaches
After the prize in view! and, like a bird
That's hamper'd, ftruggles hard to get away!
Whilft the glad gates of fight are wide expanded
To let new glories in, the first fair fruits
Of the faft-coming harveft! Then! O then!
Each earth-born joy grows vile, or disappears,
Shrunk to a thing of nought. O how he longs
To have his paffport fign'd, and be difmifs'd!
'Tis done, and now he's happy! The glad foul
Has not a with uncrown'd. Ev'n the lag flesh
Reits too in hope of meeting once again
Its better half, never to funder more.
Nor fhall it hope in vain: the time draws on
When not a single spot of burial-earth,
Whether on land, or in the fpacious fea,
But must give back its long committed duft
Inviolate: and faithfully fhall these
Make up the full account; not the least atom
Embezzled, or mislaid, of the whole tale.
Each foul thall have a body ready-furnish'd;
And each fhall have his own. Hence,yeprophane!
Aik not, how this can be? Sure the fame pow'r
That rear'd the piece at firft, and took it down,
Can re-affemble the loose scatter'd parts,
And put them as they were. Almighty God
Has done much more; nor is his arm impair'd
Thro' length of days; and what he can he will;
His faithfulnefs ftands bound to fee it done.
When the dread trumpet founds, the flumb'ring
Not unattentive to the call, fhall wake; [duft,
And ev'ry joint poffefs its proper place,
With a new elegance of form, unknown
To its firft ftate. Nor fhall the confcious foul
Mittake its partner; but amidst the crowd,
Singling its other half, into its arms
Shall ruth, with all the impatience of a man
That's new come home, who having long been
absent,

With haite runs over ev'ry different room,
In pain to fee the whole. Thrice happy meeting!
Nor time, nor death, thall ever part them more.

'Tis but a night, a long and moonless night; We make the grave our bed, and then are gone.

Thus, at the fhut of even, the weary bird Leaves the wide air, and in fome lonely break Cow'rs down, and doles till the dawn of day; Then claps his well-fledg'd wings, and bears

away.

inful bleeding step, [Death! § 40. Happiness to be found in Virtue alone. Pope. ome, and lands us fife KNOW then this truth (enough for man to fhore, Prodigious change!" Virtue alone is Happiness below." [know)

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