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** Yet in thy turn, thou frowning preacher, hear: 6 Are not chefe general maxims too Tevere ? - Say .. cannot pow'r secure its owner bliss? :) 6 And is not wealth che potent fire of peace? 6 Are victors bleft with fame, or kings with eafe.?)
I tell thee life is but one common care ", And man was born to suffer and to fear. .."
" But is no rank, no fation, no degree it.
None; mortal, none : yet in a bolder strain ." Let me this melancholy truth maintain: 3:9 But hence, ye wordly, and prophane, retire a For I adapt my voice, and raise my lyre. . To notions, not by vulgar ear receiv'd: Ye ftill must covet life, and be deceiv'd , Your very fear of death should make ye tre To catch the shade of immortality; . . . Wishing on earth to linger, and to fave!. Part of its prey from the devouring grave; To those who may survive ye, to bequeath Something entire, in spite of time and death ; A fancy'd kind of being to retrieve; -'' ; . And in a book, or from a building live.
" False hope ! vain labour ! let some ages fly : The dome shall moulder, and the volume die: Wretches, still taught, still will ye think it ftrange, That all che parts of this grear fabric change ; Quit their old ftation, and primaeval frame;. - ' And lose their luape, their effence, and theit name? Reduce the song : our hopes, our joys are vain: Our lot is forrow; and our portion pain.
What pause from woc, what hopes of comfort bring The name of wise or greaty of judge or king ? What is a king, a man-condemn'd to bear The public burden of the nation's care; Now crown'd. fome angry faction to appease; Now falls a vidim to the people's ease : From the first blooming of his ill-taught youth, Nourish'd in fatt'ry, and estrang'd from truth : At home furcounded by a servile croud, : Prompt to abuse, and in detraction loud : Abroad begirt with men, and swords, and spears ; His very state acknowledging his fears : Marching amidst a thousand-gvards, he shows." His secret terror of a.thousand foes :: In war however prudent; great, or brave, To blind events, and fickle chance a slave ::: Seeking to settle what for ever fiies ; Sure of the toil, uncertain of the prize.
But he returns with conquest on his brow ; Brings up the triumph, and absolves the vow : The caprive gen'rals to his car are ty’d: The joyful citizens tumultuous tide . Echoing his glory, gratify his pride. What is this triumph ? madness, shouts and noises One great collection of the people's voice. The wretches he brings back; in chains relate, What may to-morrow be the victor's fate. The spoils and trophies barn before him, show National loss, and epidemic woe, Various diftocleg, which he and his may know.
What is this lation of the in chains
Does he not mourn the valiant thousands läin;
See, where he comes, the darling of the war!
Are the dire images of fad distrutt, And popular change, obscur'd amid the dust, That rises from the victor's rapid wheel? Can the loud clarion, or shrill fife repel.. . The inward cries of care ? can nature's voice Plaintive be drown'd, or lessen'd in the noise ; Though shouts as thunder loud afflict the air, Stun the birds now releas'd, and shake the iv'ry chair?
Yon? croud (he might reflect) yon? joyful crowd, : Pleas'd with my honours, in my praises loud (Should fleeting victory to the vanquish'd go....i Should she depress my arms, and raise the foe) La Would for that foe with equal ardour wait . At the high palace, or the crouded gate; to With restless rage would pull, my.statuos downs. And call the brass a-new. to his renown.
O impotent desire of worldly sway! . . That I, who, make the triumph of to-day:.: May. of tomorrow's pomp one part, appears. ,' Ghaftly with wounds, and lifeless on the bier .. 1
Then (vileness of mankind !) then of all these,
Let us revolve that roll with strictest eye,
Adam, great type, for whom the world was madey The fairest bleffing to his arms convey'd, À charming wife, and air, and fea, and lands. And all that more therein to his command Render'd obedient : say, my penfive mufe, What did these golden promises produce ? Scarce tasting life, he was of joy bereav'd : One day, I think, in Paradise he liv'd : Defin'd the next his jonrney to pursue, Where wounding thorns, and cursed thifles grew. L'er yet he earns his bread, adown his brow, Inclin'd to carth, his lab'ring sweat must flow : His limbs muft ake, with daily coils opprest; E'er long-wish'd night brings nécessary rest? Still viewing with regret his darling Éve," He for hec follies, and his own must grieve.
Bewailing Atill a-fresh their hapless choice ;
The frighted angels heard the Almighty Lord;