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Mine was the murder: it was mine alone;
With an imperfect hand, and trembling heart,
Yet tell me, frighted Reason! what is Death?
Cure of the miser's wish, and coward's fear, Diath only Mews us, what we knew was near. With courage therefore view : :le pointed hour; Dread not death's anger; but expect his power; Nor nature's law with fruitless forrow mourn; But die, O mortal man! for thou wast born.
Cautious through doubt; by want of courage, wise, To fuch advice the reasoner ftill replies.
Yet measuring all the long continued space,
soul Join’d to my body swell’d the womb; I was, (At least I think fo) nothing; must I pass Again to nothing, when this vital breath Ceasing, consigns me o'er, to rest, and death? Must the whole man, amazing thought! - return To the cold marble, or contracted urn? And never shall those particles agree, That were in life this individual He?. But fever'd, must they join the general mass Through other forms, and shapes ordain’d to pass; Nor thought nor image kept of what he was? Does the great word that gave him sense, ordain, That life shall never wake that sense again? And will no power his sinking spirits save From the dark caves of death and chambers of the grave
Each evening I behold the setting fun With down-ward speed into the ocean run: Yet the same light (pass but some fleeting hours.) Exerts his vigor, and renews his powers ; Starts the bright race again: his constant flame Rises and sets, returning still the same. I mark the various fury of the winds; These neither seasons guide, nor order binds: They now dilate, and now contract their force: Various their speed, but endless is their course. From his first fountain and beginning ouze, Down to the sea each brook and torrent flows: Tho' sundry drops or leave, or swell the stream; The whole still runs, with equal pace, the same. Still other waves supply the rising urns; And the eternal food no want of water mourns.
Why then must man obey the sad decree, Which subjects neither fun, nor wind, nor sea ?
A flower, that does with opening morn arise, And flourishing the day, at evening dies; A winged eastern blast, juft skimming o'er The ocean's brow, and finking on the shore; A fire, whose flames through crackling ftubble fly A meteor shooting from the summer sky; A bowl a-down the bending mountain rollid; A bubble breaking, and a fable told; A noon-tide shadow, and a midnight dream; Are emblems, which with semblance apt proclaim Our earthly course: but, O my soul! so fast Muft Life run off: and Death for ever
This dark opinion, sure, is too confin'd,
relicks second birth receive?
Amid two seas on one small point of land
Losing the present in this dubious haste;
These cruel doubts contending in my breast,
That power superior then, which rules our mind, Is his decree by human prayer
inclin'd Will he for sacrifice our sorrows ease? And can our tears reverse his firm decrees? Then let religion aid, where reason fails: Throw loads of incense in, to turn the scales ; And let the filent fanctuary show, What from the babbling schools we may not know, How man may hun, or bear his destin'd
part of What shall amend, or what abfolve our fate ? Anxious wę hover in a mediate state,