Of Things to know the Causes, what avails;
The Present with the Future to unite;

In Thought to roam above the Sun and Stars;
If Man muft die? Yet the whole Human race,
One Law of Death and common Grave awaits.
Is it not better then, if this the Cafe,
With fome kind Nymph to dally in the Shade?
Or with the merry Dance to celebrate

Thee, Father Bacchus, God of pow'rful Wine?
Wine Cares can banish, Wine extinguish quite
Both Senfe of Paft, and Fear of what's to come.

Come on then, fill the Bowl: Eat, Drink, and Play;
Join with the tuneful Lyre melodious Song;
Snatch the swift Day's Enjoyments, as it flies,
With jovial Heart; nor anxious feek to know,
What Good or Ill To-morrow may bring forth.
But foon of these Delights we weary grow;
Scarce is the Pleasure tafted, ere it cloys.
These Trifles then dismiss'd, let's try to find

Things of more grave Concern. Go, heap up Wealth; The Path, where Honour or Ambition leads,

Purfue, attended with a num'rous Throng

Of Morning-Vifiters. Why many Words?

To the fame Point you ftill are carried round,

Forc'd to exclaim, that All is Vanity.

What Way then try we? Where the friendly Shore?

See you not how the Mind, whilst closely pent

Within the Body, Things from Things to know
Still longs, and without End (fo Nature leads)
By gradual Steps to reach Eternal Truth.

Nay more, She covets not these fleeting Joys,
But Joys that with her Nature better fuit;
Joys fubject to no Change, and without End.

Take Courage then; for neither works in vain
Wisdom divine; nor fhall the human Mind
Be always cramp'd in the fame narrow Bounds
With this frail Body;-Pure from Earthly Stain,
She vig'rous lives, and fhall for ever live.

And, foon as from the Body's Fetters loos'd,
As from her Prifon, Heav'n, her native Seat,
The old Inhabitant shall free regain,
From Truth's eternal Fountain flowing Streams.
Of Nectar drink, and crop celestial Spice.
Indeed, whilft Life remains, (if what's enclos'd
In this blind Husk of Body can deserve
The Name of Life) the Vigour of the Mind
Is chill'd; nor fpreads fhe out her gladfome Wings.
Yet many Traces of her antient Stock
She still retains. Elfe whence fo many Things
Does she remember? whence her Pow'r to range
All in apt Order, and then bring them forth
For Ufe? for fure a Treafure fo immenfe

Can

Can never in the Body's Cells be lodg'd,
Nor by the Body's Pow'r recall'd to Light.

That too, which Life fupplies with all it wants
Of Strength or Beauty, Source of various Arts,
Th' inventive Faculty, which Names on Things
Impofed, by Letters which tied down the Voice,
And Men, (that lived, before like Savage Beasts,
In different Parts difpers'd) fettled in Towns;
'Tam'd them with Laws. and join'd in mutual League;
What is it other, than fome Pow'r divine,
Etherial Sense, and Virtue Heav'n-inspir❜d?
Those too, whose Eloquence in rapid Course
The Paffions drives impetuous, at it's Will,
Thunder and Lightning mingling as it rolls;
Whence draw they its Supplies? Has Fire like this
Ought of Affinity with mortal Sound?

What think you of the Poet's Lays? What Part
Soe'er he undertakes, whether he tries

With the fmooth Cadence and harmonious Force
Of Numbers, soft to steal upon the Ear,
In varied Sweetness, or with fancied Song
Of fpecious Wonders penetrates the Heart;
Still Grandeur and Sublimity he breaths..
And fince whate'er on Earth is done or feen,

Revolving in the fame perpetual Round,

Cán

Perfecti, fruftra eft. Jam fi fas Jufque requirunt

Ut fceleri male fit, bene Virtutique, nec illa
Alterutri fors obtingat, dum vivitur istic;

Reftat ut hoc alio fiat difcrimen in ævo.
Tum vero quæ nunc rudis, et fapiente Bonoque
(Si genus humanum fpectes) haud Numine digna eft
Scena, revelabit dempta fe nube, colorque
Verus erit rebus, verufque videbitur Ordo.
Hoc nifi credideris, dic, qua ratione probetur
Omnino effe Deum fummo qui confilio Res
Harmoniaque regit; Num cætera fcilicet aptè
Dirigit, hac, quæ præcipua eft, in parte laborat?
Haud ita; Tempus erit, (noli quo quærere more)
Hoc fatis eft, hoc conftat, erit poft funera Tempus;
Cum Deus, ut par eft, æquos excernét Iniquis,
Sontibus Infontes, et idonea cuique rependet.

F I N I S.

370

375.

380

IMMORTALITY

OF THE

SOU L.

A PO E M.
OE

Man's whole Life is full of Care,
Nor to his Toils is Refpite found;
Another State, that's better far,

Darkness hides, and Clouds furround:
But Life on Earth too much we love,
Because it makes a glitt'ring Shew,

Nor can we by Experience prove

That other Life in Shades below:
Hence by Fables here and there

We're led, we know not how, nor where. EURIPIDES.

Tranflated from the Latin of ISAAC HAWKINS BROWNE, Efq; By RICHARD GREY, D.D.

Commiffary and Official of the Archdeaconry of LEICESter.

LONDON,

Printed for BENJAMIN DOD, at the Bible and Key in Ave-Mary Lane, near St. Paul's.

MDCCLIV.

[Price One Shilling and Six-pence.]