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Worn on the edge of days, the brass confumes,
The bufto moulders, and the deep-cut marble,
Uniteady to the fleel, gives up its charge.
Ambition, half convicted of her folly,
Hangs down the head, and reddens at the tale.
beneath the facrificer's knife: Manthou bear the ftrite of little tongues, Adcoward intuits of the bale-born crowd, Thedge a privilege thou never hadst, By Sop'd for in the peaceful grave, Cig annoifted and alone. Any's gams, and odoriferous drugs, And bears by the heralds duly paid Iz made and torn, ev'n to a very fcruple; Deral hap' thele come too late; Antevask whom they were meant to honor. bar, there's not a dungeon-flave that's buried integhway unshrouded and uncoffin'd, Befort, and ficeps as found, as he. Spremence of high defcent As the vulgar-born, to rot in state! [on, Be the well-plum dhearfe comesnodding Strod wow, and properly attended Eheatre Lible tribe, that painful watch ara's door, and live upon the dead, out their perfons by the hour snow when the heart's not fad!" terappings,now they're all unfurl'd] ng in the fun! triumphant entries .3, and coromation pomps, Le exceed. Great gluts of people kellite unwieldy fhow; whilft from the
Here all the mighty troublers of the earth,
Who fwam to fov’reign rule, thro' ieas 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 flates of half their people, and gave up
To want the reit; now, like a storm that's spent
Lie huth'd, and meanly ineak behind thy covert.
Vain thought! to hide them from the gen'ralicorn
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 beast 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
Norpleads his rankand birthright. Underground
Precedency's a jeft; vafal and lord,
Grofsly familiar, fide by fide contume.
is mighty itir? 'Tis wifely done: fend the eye in a good picture,That The Patter Lits difcreetly into fhades. Fae, now how little thou appear'ft! *tomy of the private man!
farudiciome officious ill, P. teen to death, nor there ftops fhort. trecution! when the grave itself
in from rude fufferance.
and to think to over-reach the grave,!
the wreck of names to refcue ours!
oncerted schemes men lay for fame
4way only themselves die fafter.
cuptor, and the laurel bard,
4 inferers of eternal fame,
little feeble aids in vain,
ag pyramid, th` Egyptian's pride,
of the world! whofe fpiky top
ed the thick cloud, and long outliv'd
making of the winter's ftorm;
laft by th' injuries of heav'n,
thage, and furrow'do'er with years,
Te cone with hieroglyphics crufted,
O lamentable fight! at once
The base of whole ages lumbers down;
Ades and mil-fhapen length of ruins.
columns wrestle but in vain
duing Time; her cank'ring hand
Vacam deliberate malice wafteth them:
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 !
iteals 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 foil'd,
What haft thou more to boast of? Will thy lovers
Flock round thee now, to gaze & do thee homage?
Methinks I fee thee with thy head low-laid;
Whilft furfeited upon thy damask cheek,
The high fed worm in lazy volumes roli'd,
Riots unfcar'd. For this was all thy caution!
For this thy painful labours at thy glass,
T'improve thofe 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 greater eafe than e'er thou didittheftripling
That rathly 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 stronger arm belabour'd, gafps for breath
Like a hard hunted beaft. How his great heart]
Beats thick! his roomy cheft by far too fcant
To give the lungs full play! what now avail
The strong-built finewy limbs, and well-spread
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 ftare 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 brawi'd itfelfto reft, boatter!
Lies ftill. What mean'st thou then, O mighty
To vauntof nervesofthine? Whatmeansthe 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 ftar-furveying fage clofe to his eye
Applies the fight-invigorating tube;
And vex'd them in the fire: nor fly, nor in
Nor writhy fnake, efcap'd thy deep research
Tell us thou doughty keeper from the
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 fpeakest not. The bold impost
Who meanly stole, difcreditable shift!
Here, the lank-fided mifer, worst of felons
From back and belly too,
To his own carcafe, now lies cheaply lodg'o
Eas'd of a tax it irk'd the wretch to pay
their proper chee
Ner tedious bills 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 com
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 unfurnifh'd for that world to come
In that dread moment, how the frantic foul
Raves round the walls of her clay tenement,
But fhrieks in vain! how with fully fhe look
Runs to each avenue, and shrieks for help,
On all the's leaving, now no longer her's!
A little longer, yet a little longer,
Marks well the courfes of the far-feen orbs,
That roll with regular confufion there,
In ecflacy of thought. But ah! proud man!
Great heights are hazardous to the weak head!
Soon, very foon,thy firmeft footing fails; [place,
And down thou dropp't into that darkfome
Where nor device nor knowledge ever came. O might the stay to wash away her stains,
Here the tongue-warrior lies! difabled now, And fit her for her paffage! mournful fight!
Difarm'd,difhonour'd,like awretchthat's gagg'd, Her very eyes weep blood; and every groan
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-fall'n now thick mifts and
Kett, like a weary cloud, upon thy break filence
Uncealing. Ah! where is the lifted arm,
The strength of action, and the force of words,That awful gulf no mortal e'er repafs'd
The well-turn'd period,andthe well-tun'dvoice, To tell what's doing on the other fide!
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 mafters of the healing art,
These mighty mock defrauders of the tomb!
Spite of their julaps and catholicons,
Reign to fate. Proud Æfculapius' fon,
Where are thy boafted implements of art,
And all thy well-cramm'd magazines of health?
Nor hill, nor vale, as far as ship could go,
Nor margin of the gravel-bottom'd brook,
Jp'd thy rifling hand: from ftubborn fhrubs
Lot wrung'ft their shy retiring virtues out,
She heaves is big with horror: but the foe,
Like a staunch murd`rer steady to his purpo
Purfues her close thro' ev'ry lane of life,
Nor miles 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!
Thy journey's end thou haft the gulf in view
Nature runs back, andinudders at thefight, [in
For part they muft: body and foul muft par
And ev'ry life-ftring bleeds at thoughts of par
Fond couple! link'dmoreclofe than weddedpa
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 difabled pitcher, of no use.
If death was nothing, and nought after deat
If, when men died, at once they ceas'd to be
Returning to the barren womb of nothing,[ch
Whencefirst they fprung; then might the deba
Untrembling mouth the heav'ns, then might t
Reel over his full bowl, and when 'tis drain`d,
Fill up another to the brim, and laugh [wretc
That's weary of the world, and tir'd of life,
At the poor bug-bear Death; then might t
At once give each inquietude the flip,
By ftealing out of being when he pleas'd,
And by what way; whether by hemp or steel:
Death's thoufland doors ftand open. Who could
Theil-pleas'd gueft to fit out his full time, [force
Orbame him if he goes? Sure! he does well
That helps himself as timely as he can,
When able. But if there is an bereafter,
And that there is, confcience uninfluenc'd,
And suffer'd to speak out, tells ev'ry man,
Then must it be an awul thing to die;
More horrid yet to die by one's own hand.
Self-murder! name it not; our island's fhame,
Thatmakes her the reproach of neighb'ringftates.
Shall nature, werving from her earliest dictate,
Self-prefervation, fall by her own act?
Forbid it, Heav'n! let not upon difguft,
The thameless hand be foully crimson'd o'er
With blood of its own lord. Dreadful attempt!
Just reeking from self-daughter, in a rage
To rush into the prefence of our Judge!
As if we challeng'd him to do his wort,
And matter'd not his wrath. Unheard of tortures
Mut he relerv'd for fuch: thefe herd together;
The common dann'd fhun their fociety,
And look upon themfelves as fiends lefs foul.
Our time is tx'd; and all our days are number'd,
How long how bort, we know not: this we know,
Duty requires we calmly wait the fummons,
Nor are to ftir till Heav'n thall give permiffion.
Like fentries that muft keep their deftin'd ftand,
And wait th' appointed hour, till they're reliev'd.
Thofe only are the brave who keep their ground,
And keep it to the laft. To run away
Is but a comand's trick: to run away
From this world's ills, that at the very worst
Will foon blow o'er, thinking to mend ourselves
By boldly vent ring on a world unknown,
And plunging headlong in the dark; 'tis mad:
No frenzy hat to defperate as this.
Tell us, ye dead! will none of you in pity
To thote you left behind difclofe the fecret?
O! that forme courteous ghoft would blab it out,
What 'ris you are, and we must fhortly be.
I've heard that fouls departed have fometimes
Forewardmen of their death: 'twas kindly done
To knock and give th' alarm. But what means
This itinted charity? 'tis but lame kindness
That does is work by halves. Why might you not
Teil us what 'tis to die? Do the ftrict laws
Or your Fociety forbid your speaking
Upon a point to nice? I'll afk no more;
Sullen ke lamps in fepulchres, your thine
Enlighten but yourfelves: well-tis no matter:
A very little time will clear up all,
And make us learn'd as you are, and as close.
Death'shaftsfy thick! Here falls the village
And there his pamper'd lord! The cup goes
And who is artful as to put it by?
Tis long face death had the majority;
Yet, frange! the living lay it not to heart.
See yonder maker of the dead man's bed,
The fexton, hoary-headed chronicle!
Of hard unmeaning face, down which ne'er ftole
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 pailage 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 trufty brother of the trade
Shall do for him what he has done for thoufands.
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 shall sweep us in.
Think we, or think we not, time nurries on
With a refiftless unremitting stream,
Yet treads more foft than e'er did midnight thief,
That flides his hand under the miter's pillow,
And carries off his prize. What is this world?
What but a fpacious burial-field unwall'd,
Strew'd with death's fpoils, the spoils 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;
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 matters of the balance,
Deep read in itratagems, and wiles of courts:
Now vaia their treaty-fkill! Death fcorns to treat.
Here the o'erloaded flave flings down his burthen
From his gall'd shoulders; and when the cruel
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 shade,
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
Unblatted by foul tongue. Here friends and foes
Lie close, unmindful of their former feuds.
The lawn-rob'd prelate, and plain prefbyter,
Ere while that stood aloof, as thy to meet,
Familiar mingle here, like fifter-streams
That fome rude interpofing rock had fplit.
Here is the large-limb'd peafant; here the child
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 fweets
Smil'd like yon knot of coilips 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,
Whole ev'ry day was made of melody, [threw,
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.
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 most 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 most 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 spot due time to prove its fweets,
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 erving 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.
Evil he would needs try: nor tried in vain.
Sick of his blifs, and bent on new adventures,
Dreadful experiment! deftructive measure!
Where the worst thing could happen, is fuccefs.
Stalk'd off reluctant, like an ill-us'd ghoft,
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
An error fatal not to him alone,
Saw the rafh error which he could not mend;
But to his future fons, his fortune's heirs.
Beneath a vaffalage fo vile and cruel,
Inglorious bondage! human nature groans
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-iwoln inundation
Mars the adjacent fields for fome leagues round
Of mifchief more diffutive, raving loud,
Buries whole tracts of country, threat'ning more
But that too has its fhore it cannot país.
More dreadful far than thefe, Sin has laid wafte
Dispatching 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 moft deadly kind
Of ev'ry fize and fymptom, racking pains,
Compar'd to thee are harmlefs. Sickneffes
And blueft plagues are thine! See how the fien
Profufely fcatters the contagion round! [heels
Wades deep in blood new fpilt; yet for to-morro
Whilft deep-mouth'd flaughter, beilowing at he
Shapes out new work of great uncommon daring
But hold! I've gone too far; too much discover
And inly pines till the dread blow is truck.
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
To edge the appetite: thou feekelt none.
And theinds that each hour thou gobblest up, The sun this, might gorge thee to the full. Bus itul, thou gap'ft for more: Lite, welle days defrauded of his meals, Gaya Lak bunger lays his skinny hand, And to keeneft eagerness his cravings Art Dientes, Malfacres, and Poison, Amical War, were not thy caterers)! But that thou muftrender up thy dead, interest too! they are not thine; xening for a featon, mis'd day of reftitution; Wative found from brazen trump gd cherub thall alarm thy captives, Avertir loog, long fleepers into life,
Our bane turn'd to a bleffing! Death difarm'd
Lofes his fellneis quite; all thanks to Him
Who fcourg'd the venom out! Sure the laft 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.
Bebold 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 harvest! 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 wish uncrown'd. Ev'n the lag fleth
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 fingle fpot of burial-earth,
Whether on land, or in the fpacious fea,
But must give back its long committed duft
Inviolate: and faithfully fhall thefe
Make up the full account; not the leaft 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 rush, with all the impatience of a man
That's new come home, who having long been
The gates fly open, and reveal That long formning under ground, teeds immur'd; but now full ripe, Tuner from the crucible, A food the torture of the fire, buah the forge. We know, DUR er of mankind, (2x1794chie told. Hum in thy pow'r tel: elf-vigorous he rofe, fetters, foon retook untary yielding lent. reatement from thy thrall!) warm day he lojourn'd here on earth, An excumet dive to chofen witnesses Bohat the most flow affenting 2 let. Thi, having done, Cottavin. Methinks I fee him telem bughts, and glide along e na ng clouds: but the faint eye, ate chace, foon drops its hold, jaded with purfing. de expand to let him in; ut cut: as fome great prince as procures admillion, , it was his royal will, there should his followers be. he ween 1 a gloomy path! gloomy by our coward fears! nor tedious: the fatigue Befdes, there's no by-road wy, ike ill-condition'd children, fest hardships in the way rer air and fofter skies, ng fun? Fools that we are! ere fweets unwith'ring bloom; revoke, and will not go. upon a fummer's even, shrink a youngster play! ooks to ftem the tide! inte, next unrefolv'd, toot; but as he dips and he runs away fream, unmindful now t paint the further bank, of late. Thrice welcome
With hatte 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
ful bleeding ftep, [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)