A Noon-tide Shadow, and a Mid-night Dream
Are Emblems, which with Semblance apt proclaim
Our Earthly Courfe: But, O my Soul! so fast
Muft Life run off; and Death for ever laft?
This dark Opinion, fure, is too confin'd:
Elfe whence this Hope, and Terror of the Mind!
Does Something ftill, and Somewhere yet remain,
Reward or Punishment, Delight or Pain?
Say: fhall our Relicks fecond Birth receive?
Sleep We to wake, and only dye to live?
When the fad Wife has clos'd her Husband's Eyes,
And pierc'd the Echoing Vault with doleful Cries;
Lyes the pale Corps nor yet entirely Dead,
The Spirit only from the Body fled,
The groffer Part of Heat and Motion void,
To be by Fire, or Worm, or Time destroy'd;
The Soul, immortal Subftance, to remain,
Conscious of Joy, and capable of Pain?
And if Her Acts have been directed well,
While with her friendly Clay She deign'd to dwell;
Shall She with Safety reach her priftine Seat,
Find her Reft endless, and her Bliss compleat:
And while the buried Man We idly mourn;
Cælicolæ læti excipiunt, plauduntque reverfo?
Sin fefe fcelerum maculis & crimine multo
Polluerit, fuperifne tremens depellitur oris
Perpetuam in noctem, loca tetra; ibi cogitur ævum/
Immortale pati, æternos fentire dolores?
Nos adeo, angufto trepidantes limite terræ, Fluctibus oppofitis geminum circumfluit æquor : Flectimus hinc atque inde oculos; dolor opprimit inde, Imminet hinc timor: & vario dum volvimur æstu Præcipites, flemufque peracta, futura timemus, Præfens follicito difperditur hora tumultu.
Pectore fic varias inter fluitante procellas, Dum Spes ægra cadit, Ratioque incerta vacillat; En (iterum dixi) quid Vis illa impigra, quæram, Quid trepidans agilifque, Animam quem dicimus, Ignis? Quo more exercet fefe? quêis clauditur oris? Nofne illam imperio premimus, frænifque tenemus? Unde ideo hæc noftram rumpunt Incommoda pacem? Ufque fequi pacem contendimus, ufque dolorem Aufugere: utrinque heu! ftudio exercemur inani:
Do Angels joy to fee His better Half return?
But if She has deform'd this Earthly Life
With murd'rous Rapine, and feditious Strife;
Amaz'd, repuls'd, and by those Angels driv'n
From the Ætherial Seat, and blissful Heav'n,
In everlasting Darkness muft She lye,
Still more unhappy, that She cannot dye?
Amid Two Seas on One small Point of Land
Weary'd, uncertain, and amaz'd We ftand:
On either Side our Thoughts inceffant turn:
Forward We dread; and looking back We mourn.
Lofing the Prefent in this dubious Haft;
And loft Our felves betwixt the Future, and the Paft.
These cruel Doubts contending in my Breast,
My Reason ftagg'ring, and my Hopes opprefs'd,
Once more I faid: once more I will enquire,
What is this little, agile, pervious Fire,
This flutt'ring Motion, which We call the Mind?
How does She act? and where is She confin'd?
Have we the Pow'r to guide Her, as We please?
Whence then thofe Evils, that obftruct our Eafe?
We Happiness purfue; We fly from Pain;
Yet the Pursuit, and yet the Flight is vain:
Dumque diem Natura velit traducere molles
Inter delicias, & noctem fallere fomno;
Fortior interea opponens mala certa Poteftas
Arbitrium eludit fragile, arrectamque premit fpem;
Omniaque oftendit, nobis licet ufque videntur
Libera, præfcriptâ fatorum lege teneri.
Illa igitur menti humanæ dominata Poteftas, Num gemitus audit miferos, precibufque movetur? Num votis venerata piis & thuris honore, Avertet curas, decretaque jura refolvet? Fortior addat opem Pietas Ratione labanti, Thureaque invalidas compenfent munera vires: Et doceant taciti veneranda filentia templi, Garrula quod nequeunt Sapientum roftra, dolores Quo pacto licet aut fugere, aut fuperare ferendo.
Quid noftra in melius poterit convertere fata?
Ut palans tenebris fortifque incerta futuræ
Anxia mens trepidat, Nihil inter & Infinitum
Dum pendens diverfa fluit, densâque laborat
Ambage implicita, & dubiis conceptibus impar!
Solum Hoc fcire datur, luctus fubfidere, fpemque
Surgere, quo faveat magis Indulgentia Cœli.
And, while poor Nature labors to be bleft,
By Day with Pleasure, and by Night with Reft;
Some stronger Pow'r eludes our fickly Will;
Dashes our rifing Hopes with certain Ill;
And makes Us with reflective Trouble fee,
That all is deftin'd, which We fancy free.
That Pow'r fuperior then, which rules our Mind, Is His Decree by Human Pray'r 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 Incenfe in to turn the Scales;
And let the filent Sanctuary show,
What from the babling Schools We may not know,
How Man may shun, or bear his deftin'd Part of Woe.
What shall amend, or what abfolve our Fate?
Anxious We hover in a mediate State,
Betwixt Infinity and Nothing; Bounds,
Or boundless Terms, whofe doubtful Senfe confounds
Unequal Thought; whilft All We apprehend,
Is, that our Hopes muft rife, our Sorrows end;
As our Creator deigns to be our Friend.
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