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OT HE following Translation is from a Poem justly admir’d for

I the Elegance and Purity of its Style, and for comprising in an easy, concise, perspicuous and affecting Manner, the strongest Proofs from Reafon, of the most interesting and important Truth that the Mind of Man can contemplate. As it peculiarly excels in the Juftness and Propriety of the Language it is wrote in, it must appear to disadvantage in any other. I have however endeavour'd to give at least a faithful and exact Translation of it, and in some Measure to preserve the Spirit of the Original, by keeping as close as possible, not only to the Sense of the learned and ingenious Author, but to his Words, and Manner of Expression. The rendering of it into English may possibly contribute towards making the Arguments upon this Subject more generally known and attended to, and consequently more effectually answer the good Intention of the Poem. For it is greatly to be hoped, that if Men were once firmly persuaded of the Immortality of the Soul, upon the Principles of natural Reason, they might not only be prevailed upon to live more consistently with the Dignity of their Nature, and the Expectation of a future State; but also be disposed the more readily, and thankfully to embrace that Divine Revelation, of which this Doctrine is a fundamental Point, infallibly made known to them, in the clearest and most awful Light.

I have only to add, that I did not hear of Mr. Hay’s intending to oblige the World with a Translation of this Poem, till I had finish'd my own. The Performance of so ingenious a Writer would, in all Probability, have superseded this Attempt of mine, if it had not been undertaken in a different kind of Verse.

OF

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TELL other Animals on Earth enjoy

A The Lot which Nature gave, nor wish for more. SSC Man only, with Sagacity to know, And with importunate Desire, of Things The Reasons and Connections to search out, Takes a vain Journey: Death with fable Wings Hangs o'er, and in the Middle of his Course, Arrests him as he goes. Why this, if nought Wisdom divine created has in Vain? Say, for what End these Seeds of heav’nly Mind In Man implanted, if they have not Pow'r To grow and ripen to their proper Fruits!

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 must die? Yet the whole Human race,
One Law of Death and common Grave awaits.
Is it not better then, if this the Case,
With some 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 Sense of Past, 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 seek to know,
What Good or Ill To-morrow may bring forth..

But soon of these Delights we weary grow; Scarce is the Pleasure tasted, 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, Pursue, attended with a num'rous Throng Of Morning-Visiters.. Why many Words? To the fame Point you still are carried round, Forc'd to exclaim, that All is Vanity.

What Way then try we? Where the friendly Shore?

See

See you not how the Mind, whilft closely pent
Within the Body, Things from I hings 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 subject to no Change, and without End.

Take Courage then; for neither works in vain
Wisdom divine; nor shall the human Mind
Be always cramp'd in the same narrow Bounds
With this frail Body;-Pure from Earthly Stain,
She vig'rous lives, and shall for ever live.
And, soon as from the Body's Fetters loos’d,
As from her Prison, 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 spreads she out her gladsome Wings,
Yet many Traces of her antient Stock
She still retains. Else whence so many Things
Does she remember? whence her Pow'r to range
All in apt Order, and then bring them forth
For Ufe? for sure a Treasure fo immense

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 supplies with all it wants
Of Strength or Beauty, Source of various Arts,
Th’inventive Faculty, which Names on Things
Imposed, by Letters which tied down the Voice,
And Men, (that lived, before like Savage Beasts,
In different Parts dispers’d) settled in Towns;
Tam’d them with Laws. and join'd in mutual League; .
What is it other, than some Pow'r divine,
Etherial Sense, and Virtue Heav'n-inspir’d ?

Those too, whose Eloquence in rapid Course
The Passions 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 smooth Cadence and harmonious Force
Of Numbers, soft to steal upon the Ear,
In varied Sweetness, or with fancied Song
Of specious Wonders penetrates the Heart ; ;
Still Grandeur and Sublimity he breaths. .
And since whate’er on Earth is done or seen,
Revolving in the same perpetual Round,

Can

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