Atra, fevera Cohors, quibus anxia Vita laborat, Ufque adeo vexatur adhuc, blandumque levamen Venatu affiduo fruftra mens anxia quærit; Sperat adhuc, multi poft tædia longa laboris, Poft tot follicitos requiefcere fuaviter annos; Vana voluptatis fimulacra attingere poffe Exoptat; vitâque aliud dictante magiftrâ, Quod nufquam eft avidè petit, & fibi fomnia fingit Lætitiæ, miferis fine fine exercita curis. Felix, qui vallem lacrymarum umbrafque doloris Extremas fuperans, tandem veftigia fixit; Qui longi attingens cursûs fpatia ultima, durum Depofuit pondus, placidâque in morte quievit; Quem fculpti vultus atque æra incifa fatentur Jam vitam comitumque agmen fuperâffe Malorum. Hic felix magis, & natus melioribus aftris, Qui fpatium peragit brevius, premiturque minori Pondere; quem vitam jam primùm haurire recentem Una dies, haustamque effundere proxima cernit. Ille autem longè ante alios felicior omnes, Can fright, can alter, or can chain the Will; O fatal Search! in which the lab'ring Mind, From Years of Pain, one Moment of Release; Happy the Mortal Man, who now at last Who Qui vixdum matris penitus formatus in alvo "Parce gravis nimium Cenfor! cur tam afpera tradis "Dogmata? cur adeo vitæ genus omne feveris "Legibus includas? quid Fafces, Splendor, Opefque? "Nonne Opibus pax alma datur; non Purpùra Reges, Victorefque beat Decus immortale superbos? Tota, inquam, fimiles fubit undique vita procellas, Sollicito jactata metu trepidoque tumultu. "Ergone per terras nufquam Pax ridet; & omnis "Scena venenati patitur contagia luctûs? Nulla ufquam, Pax nulla --- age, confcia Mufa, dolores Pande nimis veros; fublimius exere vocem Mæsta fonaturam: fed vos procul ite, Profani, Dum plecro graviore canam, sociandaque magnis Verba loquar chordis, vulgi minus auribus apta. "O mentes Hominum illufas! Formidine mortis, Who with blefs'd Freedom from the gen'ral Doom Who breaths, must suffer; and who thinks, must mourn; "Yet in thy turn, Thou frowning Preacher, hear : "Are not these general Maxims too fevere? "Say: cannot Pow'r fecure it's Owner's Blifs; "And is not Wealth the potent Sire of Peace? Are Victors bless'd with Fame, or Kings with Ease? I tell Thee, Life is but one common Care; And Man was born to fuffer, and to fear. "But is no Rank, no Station, no Degree "From this contagious Taint of Sorrow free? None, Mortal, None; Yet in a bolder Strain Affiduis fitietis adhuc extendere votis Sæcula, & optatam vitæ captabitis umbram, Et revoluta novis nova nomina ducere formis? Quid tandem pacis Sapientis nomen inane, Surgit ad ingentes populi pro pace labores; Agmen |