But art and nature, powers and charms, A despicable prey. I'd have a life to call my own, That shall depend on heaven alone; Sure there's a mind within, that reigns Let earth resume the flesh it gave, And breath dissolve amongst the winds Are not akin to minds. We claim acquaintance with the skies, And there our thoughts employ : ; When heaven shall sign our grand release, We are no strangers to the place, The business, or the joy. 1704. FALSE GREATNESS. MYLO, forbear to call him blest He swells amidst his wealthy store, He spreads the balance wide to hold And cheats the beam with loads of gold So might the ploughboy climb a tree, Alas! how vain their fancies be To think that shape their own! Thus mingled still with wealth and state, His true dimensions and his weight TO SARISSA. AN EPISTLE. BEAR Up, Sarissa, through the ruffling storms Of a vain vexing world. Tread down the cares, Those ragged thorns that lie across the road, Nor spend a tear upon them. Trust the Muse, She sings experienc'd truth: this briny dew, This rain of eyes, will make the briars grow. We travel through a desert, and our feet Have measur'd a fair space, have left behind A thousand dangers, and a thousand snares, Well 'scap'd. Adieu, ye horrors of the dark, Ye finish'd labours, and ye tedious toils Of days and hours! the twinge of real smart, And the false terrors of ill-boding dreams, Vanish together, be alike forgot, For ever blended in one common grave! Farewell, ye waxing and ye waning moons, That we have watch'd behind the flying clouds On night's dark hill, or setting or ascending, Or in meridian height! then silence reign'd O'er half the world; then ye beheld our tears, Ye witness'd our complaints, our kindred groans, (Sad harmony!) while with your beamy horns, Or richer orb, ye silver'd o'er the green Where trod our feet, and lent a feeble light To mourners. Now ye have fulfill'd your round ; Those hours are fled: farewell! Months that are gone Are gone for ever, and have borne away Each his own load. Our woes and sorrows past, Awake thy voice, sing how the slender line Beats a sharp moment of the pain away, And the last stroke will come. By swift degrees But if a glimpse of light with flattering ray Breaks through the clouds of life, or wandering fire Amidst the shades invite your doubtful feet, Beware the dancing meteor,— faithless guide, That leads the lonesome pilgrim wide astray, To bogs, and fens, and pits, and certain death! Should vicious pleasure take an angel form, And at a distance rise, by slow degrees, Treacherous, to wind herself into your heart, Stand firm aloof; nor let the gaudy phantom Too long allure your gaze. The just delight That heaven indulges lawful, must obey Superior powers, nor tempt your thoughts too far In slavery to sense, nor swell your hope To dangerous size. If it approach your feet, And court your hand, forbid the intruding joy To sit too near your heart. Still may our souls Claim kindred with the skies, nor mix with dust Our better-born affections; leave the globe A nest for worms, and hasten to our home. O there are gardens of the immortal kind, That crown the heavenly Eden's rising hills With beauty and with sweets; no lurking mischief |