TO THE MOST REVEREND PRELATE

THOMAS,

ARCHBISHOP of CANTERBURY,

PRIMATE

OF ALL ENGLAND,

This Poem, fuch as it is, upon a Subject of the highest Importance,

Is presented and dedicated by

a

ISAAC HAWKINS BROWNE.

PREFACE.

T

HE following Translation is from a Poem juftly admir'd for

the Elegance and Purity of its Style, and for comprising in an easy, concise, perfpicuous 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 Justnefs 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 fome Measure to preferve 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 Expreffion. The rendering of it into English may poffibly 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 perfuaded of the Immortality of the Soul, upon the Principles of natural Reason, they might not only be prevailed upon to live more confiftently 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 Tranflation of this Poem, till I had finish'd my own. The Performance of fo ingenious a Writer would, in all Probability, have fuperfeded this Attempt of mine, if it had not been undertaken in a different Kind of Verse.

OF THE

IMMORTALITY OF THE SOUL.

A

BOOK THE FIRST.

LL other Animals on Earth enjoy

The Lot which Nature gave, nor wish for more.
Man only, with Sagacity to know,

And with importunate Defire, of Things
The Reasons and Connections to fearch 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