'Tis air, that lends us life when first
The vital bellows heave;
Our flesh we borrow of the dust ;
And when a mother's care has nurs'd
The babe to manly size we must
With usury pay the grave.
II.
Rich julaps drawn from precious ore
Still tend the dying flame,
And plants and roots of barb'rous name
Torn from the Indian fhore.
Thus we support our tott'ring flesh,
Our cheeks resume the rose afresh,
When bark and steel play well their game
To fave our sinking breath,.
And Gibson with his awful pow'r
Rescues the poor precarious hour
From the demands of Death.
III.
But art and nature, pow’rs and charms,
And drugs, and recipes, and forms,
Yield us at last to greedy worms
A despicable prey.
I'd have a life to call my own,
That shall depend on Heav'n alone,
Nor air, nor earth, nor sea,
Mix their base essences with mine,
Nor claim dominion fo divine
To give me leave to be,
Sure there's a mind within that reigns
O'er the dull current of my veins;
I feel the inward pulse beat high
With vig'rous immortality.
Let earth refume the flesh it
And breath dissolve amongst the winds;
Gibson! the things that fear a grave,
That I can lose or you can save,
Are not akin to minds.
We claini acquaintance with the skies,
Upward our fpirits hourly rise,
And there our thoughts employ;
When Heav'n fhall sign our grand release,
We are no strangers to the place,
The bus’ness or the joy:
I.
MyLo, forbear to call him bleft
That only boasts a large estate;
Should all the treafures of the west
Meet and conspire to make him great,
I know thy better thoughts, I know
Thy reason, cann't descend fo low,
Let a broad stream with golden sands
Thro' all his meadows roll,
He's but a wretch with all his lands
That wears a narrow soul.
II.
He swells amidf his wealthy store,
And proudly poizing what he weighs
In his own scale he fondly lays
Huge heaps of shining ore :
He spreads the balance wide to hold
His manors and his farms,
And cheats the beam with loads of gold
He hugs between his arms.
So might the ploughboy climb a tree
When Crosus mounts his throne,
And both stand up and smile to see
How long their shadow's grown:
Alas! how vain their fancies be
To think that shape their own!
III.
Thus mingled fill with wealth and state
Crefus himself can never know;
His true dimensions and his weight
Are far inferiour to their show.
Were I so tall to reach the pole,
Or grasp the ocean with my span,
I must be measur’d by my soul :
The mind's the standard of the man.
To Sarili. An epifle. Bear up, Sariffa, thro’the ruffling storms Of a vain vexing world ; tread down the cares, Those rugged thorns that lie across the road, Nor spend a tear upon them. Trust the Muse, She sings experienc'd truth : this briny dew, 5 This rain of eyes, will make the briers grow. We travel thro' a defert, and our feet Have measur'd a fair space, have left behind A thousand dangers and a thousand snares Well scap'd. Adicu ye horrours of the dark, Ye finith'd labours and ye tedious toils Of days and hours: the twinge of real fmart And the false terrours of illboding dreams Vanish together; be alike forgot, For ever blended in one common grave.
15 Farewell ye waxing and ye waning moons That we have watch'd behind the flying clouds On night's dark hill or setting of 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 beany horns Or richer orb ye filver'd o'er the green Where trod our feet, and lent a feeble light To mourners. Now ye have fulfill'd your round 25 Those hours are fled. Farewell months that are gone Volume VI.
B
Are gone for ever, and have borne away
Each his own load. Our woes and sorrows past,
Mountainous woes! still lessen as they fly
Tar off. So billows in a stormy sea,
30
Wave after wave (a long succession) roll
Beyond the ken of fight; the sailors safe
Look far altern till they have lost the storm,
And shout their boifl'rous joys. A gentler Muse
Sings thy dear fafety, and commands thy cares
To dark oblivion, bury'd deep in night;
Lose them Sariffa, and affiit my song.
Awake thy voice, sing how the slender line
Of Fate's immortal Now divides the pait
From all the future with eternal bars,
40
Forbidding a return. The past temptations
No more shall vex us; ev'ry grief we feel
Shortens the destin'd number, ev'ry pulse
Beats a sharp moment of the pain away,
And the last stroke will come. By [wift degrees 45
Time sweeps us off, and we shall soon arrive
At life's sweet period. O celestial point
That ends this mortal liory!
But if a glimpse of light with flatt'ring ray Breaks thro' the clouds of life, or wand'ring fire so 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!
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