University of Virginia Library

When Man, at first, before his Maker stood,
The World was very fair; and very good;
And countless charms and blessings, still combine,
To prove a Pow'r and Providence divine—
For still, in part, kind Heav'n supports the plan;
From which no Creature swerves, but sinful Man,
And those he educates, in human schools,
To counteract their kind Creator's rules.
For Man, base Rebel! every gift confounds,
A World's confusion! while Himself he wounds—
Nor can his Mind regain its pristine state,
Till God, by sovereign Grace, reverse his Fate!

The moral Muse, in part, before unfurl'd
Some striking traits of such a snaring World,
Yet still she feels her grieving bosom glow,
To state the troubles of this World below.

Oh! what a World! replete with tricks and wiles!
Where peccant Man imprudent Man beguiles!
While all things round assume such thick disguise,
They mock his lustful heart with masks and lies!
Deception, daily holds forth sounds, and sights;
To cherish Passions—charm strong Appetites;
While each frail object with a false outside,
Seducing Sense, and Reason, Prompts more Pride!
Deck'd with delights, so dazzling, nice, or new,
Each graceless Soul grows prompter to pursue!
And tho' unprosperous in the chafing chace,
Yet eager Ignorance still renews the race,
Till restless labour robs him of his breath,
Then down he sinks beneath black shades of Death!

Meanwhile, Man's willing Self, seduced by Sense,
Fond of indulgence, gulps each gross pretence,
And Body having long borne sovereign sway,
The Soul's bribed power's implicitly obey—
While Sin, by Habit, working on the Will,
Makes every strong temptation stronger still!
The passive Ear, thro' constant custom, prone,
Leans, fond, and listens, to each flattering tone—
The ready Eye, too, curiously inclines
To view, with taste, each showy toy that shines!
Oft fawns on Beauty till the breast's on fire,
With wanton wish, and dangerous desire;
While each inferior Sense finds bands to bind,
In basest servitude, the morbid Mind!
So long thus carnal Sense hath sway'd the Soul,
That feeble Reason feels the strong controul;
And Understanding so becomes a tool,
That Judgment yields, just like a fickle Fool,
While Will, submitting to their lawless lead,
Still executes their schemes by word or deed.
Fancy so long hath forag'd for delights,
To entertain the beastly Appetites—
So long each sordid Passion's sway'd by Pride,
Affections truckle, to base Lusts allied,
Heav'n's purer objects urge no Heartfelt plea,
To make the Will and mute Affections free;
But empty bubbles, round Earth's paltry Orb,
Prompt Man's pursuits—Mind's noblest pow'rs absorb!

How shall the Soul surmount this joint intrigue?
Or stop the mischiefs of this mighty league?
How these temptations of the World withstand?
And subtle blandishments of Satan's band?
Make Self's deprav'd propensities depart,
With each base habit of the head and heart?
How all her various Adversaries rout,
Poisoners within, and pioneers without?
Strong foes in garrison, ne'er known to fly,
And, tho' oft deeply wounded, never die—
How shall she still her pilgrimage pursue?
Though frequent foil'd, yet still the fight renew?
Still with fresh fortitude regain her ground,
'Mid sighs, and groans, and many a ghastly wound?
Ne'er turn, with terror, one base footstep back,
Nor seek, by sore mistake, some smoother track;
But, boldly looking back, o'er perils past,
Still trust to conquer, and be crown'd at last?
Let her apply to Heav'n's unfailing Source
For Truth and Temperance; Fortitude and Force—
For full assurance Faith shall never fail,
And Hope, fix'd sure when winds and seas assail—
Love to heal gash and bruise, with Gilead's balm—
Humility to keep her spirits calm—
Patience, and Meekness, to encounter Scorn—
Knowledge to lead, and Wisdom to forewarn—
Experience, watching with prophetic eyes;
And Circumspection to prevent surprize—
While, to protect each vulnerable part,
To fence the head, and fortify the heart,
Let her, all adverse weapons to repress,
Put on the breast-plate of Christ's Righteousness—
Her head His helmet of Salvation shield—
Her hand the Spirit's sword, with strength, to wield—
Her loins with Gospel-Truth's bright girdle bound—
On her firm feet the shoes of Peace be found,
To stand, or travel on, from fear secure,
And all the roughness of the road endure;
Still daily worn, throughout her trying ways,
Like all her heav'nly dress, which ne'er decays!
But more to baffle all her murderous Foes,
The shield of Faith, with pray'r, to interpose;
To quench each fiery dart; each doubt repel,
From sinful Self, and all the Fiends of Hell;
From the false World, its works, and wiles, defend,
Till all Earth's troubles, and temptations, end!

But deem not all those Pow'rs can Peace destroy,
Or jilt true Christians' hearts of Hope, or Joy—
Deem not those deathless Foes in equal force
Each pace, and period, thro' his conscious course—
That greater Might their Mischief ne'er restrains—
That Truth ne'er triumphs—Grace no victory gains—
That God's free Goodness ne'er suspends the fight,
Nor deigns the Soul some tastes of true delight—
Think not strong hurricane or constant storm
Distress the Traveller's Heart, and Heaven deform—
That thorns and thickets, flints, or sands, or mire,
Each hour perplex his path—his footsteps tire—
That, pierc'd with spines, or stones, or sunk in sloughs,
He feels repentance for his pious vows—
That nothing meets the Wanderer, all the Way,
But Misery—Melancholy—Doubt—Dismay—
That Care and Pain confront him every pace;
Fear, Sin, and Sorrow, Danger, and Disgrace:
Tho' he experience Perils—taste Distress—
While wand'ring thro' the World's drear Wilderness;
From painful hunger, and from parching drought,
O'er tiresome tracts, for forty years, about—
'Mid fatal Serpents—under fiery Law;
Whose penalty speaks Death, for every flaw—
Where Tribulation stood with deepest Dread,
To agitate the heart, and rack the head—
Objects of Fear, or objects of Offence,
With nought to chear the Soul—or charm the Sense;
No! Christians, who've just forded Jordan's flood,
Find Jacob's blessing's bought with Jesu's blood—
Loath'd Manna ceases when they leave the strand,
Now fed with long-stored corn in Canaan's Land!
Yet, tho' not, now, to steril coasts confin'd,
They've left innumerable ills behind.
They still experience Peace, with Tumults mix'd,
Till safe on Sion's hill for ever fix'd!

Let long-experienc'd Sojourners declare
What pains and pleasures blest Believers' are.
Let them the full-contrasted facts recal;
What raptures rise—what blasting fears befal!
What shades to shock! what glories to regale!
While wandering up each hill, and down each dale.
What elevating views, or terrors strong,
Soarings, or sinkings, labouring all day long!
Depressions deep; or extacies sublime,
While coil'd with flesh, in Earth's frail, fickle, Clime!
What doubts depress the heart—what hopes dilate—
To try their Spirits in that pilgrim state!

Thick mists, and darkness, often intervene,
To cloud the sight, or close the solemn Scene—
Shut out the blessed beams that shot from far,
From Night's pale lamp, or twinkling polar star.
Obscure the Map, or shining Chart, that show'd
Each point and bearing in Earth's temporal road—
Dismay'd with anxious care—dissolv'd with dread,
Lest Ignorance might, at last, be most misled;
Or Reason, rul'd by Passion, Lust, or Pride,
Still carnally inclin'd, should wander wide—
Should, ultimately, lead their footsteps back,
To join the Troops that throng the fatal track.
But, tho' the Christian scarce perceives a spark,
At sundry times to guide him thro' the dark;
Yet longer intervals of light appear,
More pure—more splendid—constant—warm—and clear,
Than the short gleams that shoot their glaring ray,
With dazzling lustre, o'er the wider Way!
A Light which Lust, and Pride, and Vice, pervert
To private ruin, and to public hurt—
Mere blinding beams, that seem to aid the sight,
And dart rich radiance thro' dark Nature's Night;
But only lead Man's dim, deluded, eyes,
To gaze on Earth, and quite forget the Skies!
Not such a transient, blinding, blaze, as theirs
Illuminates the eyes of Heaven's Heirs;
But Light, discovering, clearly, all around,
The gay deceptions, and the dangerous ground.
Assists the Soul to weigh each object's worth
Which prompts affections, and pursuits, on Earth!
Can with most pertinent precision show
What tends tow'rd Heav'n—what leads to depths below!
By which pure Mind their genuine price may view,
And show what Will should shun, and what pursue
Help Understanding rightly to discern
What Prudence ought espouse—what Wisdom spurn—
How Reason may point out each past mistake,
And keep the tender Conscience wide awake—
Discriminate, with judgment, Foe, from Friend,
And leading clues, thro' every labyrinth, lend,
Amidst Imagination's foulest fog,
Display each spiney brake, and specious bog;
Nor only light the eyes, the feet inform,
But nerve the Heart, and weak Affections warm;
Diffusing, from pure Grace, a rapturous glow,
Which Worldlings never feel, nor Infidels e'er know!

That few-frequented Track, far-distant view'd,
Seems quite sequester'd—desolate—and rude!
Displays no beauties, to induce desires,
But throng'd with thistles—brakes—and tangling briers!
A baleful Forest! dreary Desart! bare!
Fill'd with wild Beasts—fierce Birds—Asps—poisonous Air!
But, as the trembling Traveller proceeds,
He finds perennial springs, and verdant meads,
Fair flow'rs, of balmy scent, successive blow,
And grateful fruits, and healing herbage, grow!
Instead of blasted Forests, blooming Groves—
Or Beasts, or Birds, of Prey, but Lambs, and Doves—
Instead of dreadful Serpents, threatening death,
And poisonous Winds with pestilential breath,
Celestial breezes breathing fresh perfume,
And guardian Angels guiding tasks assume!
But safety rests not on seraphic Friends,
Their guardian-God on all their steps attends—
And when the Wanderers gain some gracious Height,
Faith, to enlighten and enlarge their sight;
Adjusts her sky-constructed telescope,
And lays it, level, on the head of Hope,
To view with fairer, fuller, evidence,
Scenes that escape the purblind pow'r of Sense;
Whilst Love, impatient to possess her dow'r,
Bounds on before, with more than mortal pow'r;
And, eager to attain her heavenly goal,
Tries to shake off her tiresome earthly stole;
Forgetting wale, and wound, and want, and woe,
And chides those Friends for sauntering on so slow!
Oft, as those kind Compeers advance their view,
Some heavenly vision, some experience, new,
Creates fresh vigour—expedites their pace,
To rival her in Time's terrestrial race.

While thus, these Friends, their lov'd Associate lead,
Increasing strength, and courage, prompt their speed—
Temptations weaken—terrors wear away—
And difficulties lessen every day!
The skies grow clearer, and the path more plain,
While songs of gladness banish grief and pain!
Thus like the harrass'd Israelitish host,
When flying from their Foe's accursed Coast,
With terror look'd tow'rds Egypt's horrid Lands,
While, still pursued, by strong, embattled Bands,
As from that cruel Coast their footsteps fled,
They saw them in the Red Sea, drown'd, and dead:
So, to the Wilderness, these looking back,
O'er every dangerous, every toilsome, track;
Where, wandering long, unnumber'd ills beset
With pain and pleasure mix'd—remember'd yet—
When, fraught with terrors, dreadful Sinai frown'd
With clouds—thick darkness—lightnings—thunderings, round—
While earthquakes—trumpets—vengeful voices, join'd!
But now, with all their horrors left behind!
The Laws there utter'd now no more condemn,
Tho' standing, still, as guides, to govern Them—
No more they threaten death, nor hope destroy,
Or rob one evangelic heart of Joy!
Receiv'd as rules of Life, from Christ's own hand,
To point their steps thro' all the promis'd Land.
Their legal Leader dead, the precious charge
Is given to One who grants the Land at large.
Now, treading safe on Canaan's happy coast,
That heavenly Joshua heads their well-arm'd host.
A dauntless Chieftain! an unerring Guide!
Still combating at each true Christian's side!
Supplied with strength, from Him, they never yield,
But every faithful Hero keeps the Field!
Their strength and courage never can decay,
While fed with heavenly food from day to day!
No Time destroys new regimental dress,
Completely cloth'd in His pure Righteousness!
Nor need they doubt the Soldier's amplest dow'r,
Their Captain's Wealth is boundless, like His Pow'r!
He gives not here, His full affianc'd Rest,
With all the bliss of Heav'n compleatly blest;
But bids to combat all unlicens'd Lust,
Till Canaan's idol Tribes embrace the dust!
Like David, conquering Pride's Philistian strength,
Till, safely lodg'd in Salem's tow'rs, at length,
Eternal transports each pure Spirit fill,
While singing hymns of Heav'n on Sion's Hill!

Not the curs'd Crowds that throng the wider Way;
The proudly Great, and profligately Gay;
Who urge, with ardour, their impure pursuits,
To pluck vile Pleasures' fascinating fruits;
Fruits, which, like Hells of old, still offer joy,
But, from the eager grasp for ever fly!
Or Sodom-Apples, seized with greedy gust,
Are found all fill'd with dry and filthy dust!
Indulg'd in each wild wish, and dangerous whim,
While, filling Folly's cup above the brim,
They drink full draughts—not natural thirst to slake,
But Lusts to strengthen, from each philter'd lake!
Their prompt Imaginations, mad for change,
Thro' all Life's labyrinths, rude, bewildering, range;
Still hoping, tho' they tread enchanted ground,
More beatific bliss must, yet, be found!
Expect new transports will outstrip the past!
Activity and strength much longer last!
Deem rank indulgence never will abate;
Nor frantic pleasure expedite their fate!
O'er every fence their lawless fancies fly,
With step impetuous, and lust-kindled eye!
While, skipping sprightly round, with song and dance,
New—thoughtless—maddening, multitudes advance!
No obstacle impedes their fearless feet,
But grateful objects all their Senses greet!
No mountains to ascend—no cliffs to climb—
Regardless how the glass is turn'd by Time!
Still sporting on, exempt from fear, and pain,
O'er an invariably declining plain—
Adown the smooth descent, secure they slide—
Consult no compass, and engage no guide!
Inflam'd by Appetite—by Pride impell'd—
Temptation's ne'er withstood, nor Wish witheld—
Fearing no fall—predicting no disgust,
In floods of Luxury—or flights of Lust!
They dread no danger! try no duteous task!
No help implore! no true protection ask!
But seize, with greedy grasp, all offer'd joys,
That Fashion shapes, or Fancy can devise!

The genial fields, at first, choice charms display,
In all the bright beatitudes of May!
The balanc'd Air, maintains a constant calm,
Or fanning Zephyrs breathe an od'rous balm!
High-flavour'd fruits, rare flow'rs, with gladd'ning glow,
'Mid softest verdure, fondly laugh below!
Cool, limpid lakes unruffled mirrors hold,
Reflecting, fair, what beauteous banks unfold!
No sullen clouds athwart the welkin range,
To check their sports, prognosticating change—
Nor skimming meteors, wafted on the wind,
Predict artilleried storms approach behind!
No vapoury blight bedims the azure sky,
To hint some noisome evil hovers nigh;
Nor churlish blasts abound, with chilly breath,
Forboding fell distemper, pain, or death!
No secret pitfals, nor approaching foes,
Their whelming depths, or wounding darts disclose,
Yet every step some crafty snare's conceal'd,
And hidden hosts their deadly weapons wield!
Their beastly Minds no warning word believe—
No awful sign their Senses, prone, perceive—
But, bounding on, with resolute career,
Spurn all reproof, nor dream disaster's near,
Tho' in each vein a native poison's pent,
And leav'ning Lust makes the foul mass ferment!
Tho' Pride, pestiferous! broods in every breast,
Still hatching passions, in its private nest;
While Appetite expands with fume or foam
Thro' deadly yeast, in each heart's, direful home;
Till vapid Pleasure, settling on its lees,
Grows sour with Sloth, or putrid with Disease!
Ev'n Venom's mix'd with sunbeams bright, and clear,
And taints the still, transparent, atmosphere—
Thro' each polluted lake spreads interspers'd—
Ev'n flow'rs, and fruits, and grassy couch, are curs'd!
Much more Corruption's rankling pow'r's increas'd,
By vicious frolic, and voluptuous feast—
By pangs that lust, and jealousy, impart,
And deadly bane that blasts the envious heart!
Pall'd Appetite rejects intemperate joys—
Lust render'd listless—rank refection cloys—
With Disappointment's weight wild Passion strives
Till sharp Chagrin curtails their headlong lives!

Not long the skies rest silent and serene,
But dire events disturb the vasty scene!
Not long the path lies plane, or prospects please,
Or Dissipation sleeps in peace, or ease—
Debauchery riots with uninjur'd health,
Or Avarice wallows in his heaps of wealth—
Unmanly Meanness Pomp and Pride attends—
Religion's mask Hypocrisy befriends—
Crowns domineer, or Courtiers cringe and fawn;
Or People, rights, and privileges, pawn!

That ample Track contains a countless Crew
Of Dupes, undone, and Scoundrels that undo!
Of servile Villains, and of sordid Slaves—
Of lawless Lechers, rich, yet needy, Knaves—
Cross interests clash throughout the motley Throng,
Each Wretch contriving, or still acting Wrong!

There travel tyrant Kings, that scourge the Earth!
And Princes, prove no nobler boast than Birth!
Idolaters of Pomp—Pimps with full Pow'rs!
Titles which trick! and Wealth which Want devours—
Seduction's brutal Bands—Imposture's Troops—
And mad mistaken Honour's sanguine Groups—
Ambition's Flatterers, and Mammon's Fools;
For glory, or for gold, all Tyrants' Tools!
Heroes, who, frequent, in their furious wrath,
With dreadful desolation sweep their Path!
Like firebrands kindling cruel waste and war,
Which Salem's peaceful progeny abhor!
Not aim'd to settle wrongs, or 'stablish rights,
But to expand their Fame, and prove their Mights!
With brandish'd blades to prune away the Poor,
The mean Mechanic, and the labouring Boor—
More useful far, in Peace, for Life's support,
Than all the Crimps that buzz about a Court!
Heroes, which lead on Armies, like a flood,
To drench and deluge every field with blood—
Steeping their horses' hoofs in human gore,
While few escape, their phrenzies to deplore;
Or, strip their Track like wild, impetuous, wind,
Leaving one vast vacuity behind!

Oft have the Sojourners to Sion felt
What threats, and thunders, Despotism has dealt;
When fell revenge, with furious wrath, decreed,
The faithful Followers of the Lamb should bleed—
Or, in the cursed Mary's martyring days,
When Smithfield's walls beheld the fatal blaze,
Whose dreadful flames the bleeding space illumed,
While Saints pure Frames the cruel fires consum'd;
But while their Bodies fed the funeral Pyre,
Each Soul ascended to its heavenly Sire!
Or when Bartholomew, in guileful Gaul,
Saw each sad Protestant, pure Victim, fall!

Pride, join'd with Profligacy, ne'er connives
At striking truths, and exemplary Lives;
But vents full vengeance on those hapless Elves
Who shew forth shapes so little like Themselves—
All deem'd foul Monsters, or acknowledg'd Foes,
Who impious Passions, Pride, and Lust oppose—
Whose blameless Lives, and virtuous converse, prove
Libels on most that round Earth's Monarchs move!
As savage Negroes feel supreme delight,
In massac'ring each Monster skinn'd with white.

When Tyrants pause, and persecutions cease,
And Christians share a temporary Peace;
While fierce convulsions in such Crowd subside,
Each Soul still swells with Passions, Lusts, and Pride!
Pride, panting, still, for some superior sway—
Lust, prowling, like a savage Beast, for prey—
Dark Passions, propagating feuds, and strife,
Lay waste, or swallow up, the sweets of Life—
Strangle Content, or lay frail Pleasure low,
Like Turkish Tyrant's brac'd, or unbrac'd, bow;
Or Earth's gross vapours, labouring to get loose,
O'erturns what tends to happiness or use!
Hate's—Envy's—Anger's—virulence, or rage,
Convulse each individual's every stage;
Like a corroding canker, Life consume,
Or, like a dagger, antedate their doom!
Care—Fear—Anxiety—or Dread—or Doubt,
Spare no rash Spirit in this Rabble-rout,
But jilt their Hearts of every earthly joy,
Till dark despondence love of Life destroy;
While private Wretchedness and public Wrongs,
By Soul-exacerbations thin the Throngs!
Illegal licence, and oppressive Pow'r,
With murderous deaths vast multitudes devour!
Pride—Pomp—Extortion—sacrifice their Slaves—
Replenish prisons—glut untimely graves—
'Mid meaner Slaves whom Fortune's goods beguile,
Crowds are cut off with trouble, care, and toil!

Among the monstrous train of hell-born ills,
Misfortune mangles—Melancholy kills!
Some pine and perish with undue Desire;
And some on freakish Fancy's racks expire.
Some fall vain Victims in false Honour's cause;
And myriads massacred by sanguine Laws.
Assassination slays in different forms,
By secret killing strokes, or open storms;
And, last of all, with desperation, drear,
Desponding Suicides bring up the rear!

In that vast concourse of discordant parts
No strong attractions knit such selfish hearts—
By no affinities, elective, held,
All mutually repelling, and repell'd.
As when some substances, of adverse kind,
Tho' cold by Nature, when, by Art combin'd,
The inimical mixture quick conspires
To waste itself by fermentation's fires:
So, when such heterogeneous Mortals meet,
All effervesce, with preternatural heat,
Till each obnoxious combination's burst,
By flames consum'd, or dissonance dispers'd!

Thro' this incongruous Crowd no Friendship's found—
This grows, alone, on consecrated ground!
In such a soil, in such inclement sky,
Mildews, and blights, both leaves, and blooms, destroy!
Pride's caterpillars eat its infant fruits—
Lust's canker-worms corrode its feeble roots—
The fires of Passion, or the frosts of Sloth,
If ever planted, still impede its growth—
Like damps, or droughts, destroy its tender head,
Or tempests tear it from its barren bed:
Religion can, alone, light up its fires—
Love only keeps alive its pure desires;
To cherish Grace, and twine the golden chain,
Uniting Minds, and making one of twain—
While moral Virtues link the mass, immense,
Inspiring courtesy, and confidence—
To shape the parts, and keep the polish pure,
Connecting each, and holding all secure.

Vice, like a Solvent, melts each mutual tie—
Makes friendly Faith, and warm Affection, fly—
An acid menstruum! all corrodes with rust,
Or totally dissolves each social trust.
Uncouples each connection Heaven frames,
Except what serves for selfish ends, or aims.
It may, short space, like lovely Virtue shine,
Covering, with lucid masks, its views, malign—
Assuming smiles which smoothe her heavenly face,
Conceal dissension, and escape disgrace.
Hypocrisy may practise tricks a time,
And hide, with constant care, each impious crime—
Behind Religion's vizor long may lurk,
And, unsuspected, ply her wiley work—
A veil, resembling Piety's, employ,
And, for awhile, deceive each searching eye;
But soon prompt energies of hidden Pride,
With pow'rful efforts push the mask aside—
Soon Lust, which, for a season, secret lies,
Starts into deed, and tears the thin disguise;
Or Passions' wild combustibles, within,
Burst into blaze, and show foul Fiends of Sin.
Strife, and Contention, rouze their angry storms,
Strip off their shrowds, and show their hateful forms;
While Hate's, and Envy's, vile, rebellious, broods,
Each heart inflame, and stir continual feuds,
Which kill with poison, slow, or sudden stings,
Each embryo bliss that in pure bosom springs;
Still, in ten thousand varied traits, destroy
Domestic happiness, and general joy!
Mischief and Misery penetrate the Whole,
Pervade the Body, and pervert the Soul!
All shapes of Pain, and pining Languor, low,
Extinguish Nature's animating glow!
Chills of Indifference—fits of deep Disgust,
Damp all delights of Luxury and Lust.
Tho' apt Amusement, Lust, and Luxury, joins,
Amusement mocks—all vapid Pleasure pines;
And, while the Frame some daily damage feels
Lust becomes mawkish—Luxury loathes its meals!
Experience dissipates fond Fancy's dreams,
And Disappointment mars their cloudy schemes;
Still pulling down their air-built, baseless, tow'rs,
Till Death Life's cold, corrupt, remains, devours!
No joyful Faith, or genuine Hope, appear,
To strew their tranquil consolations there!
Not that blest Faith which lifts each look, sublime,
Beyond all check of change, or stretch of Time;
But only diabolic Imp's belief,
Which darkens gloom and deepens pain and grief;
Depriv'd of Peace, and every ray of Hope,
While sliding, rueful, down the dreadful slope!
Each heightening horror Soul and Body tear,
By Demons dragg'd—but, chief, the Fiend, Despair!
The gloom still gathering every step they go,
With stronger foretastes of the blasts below!
Glaring, aghast! like Sin's infernal Sire,
To chains and darkness driv'n, fiends! worms! and fire!

Dandled in Fashion's lulling lap, at first,
Indulgence, by Fall'n Nature, fondly nurs'd;
That heedless Race to headlong ruin run,
Nor note their danger till their Soul's undone!

In Faith's bright form Credulity beguiles!
And counterfeited Hope, deceptive, smiles!
Dress'd in fair Fancy's endless shapes, and hues,
With pantomimic chase false charms pursues;
But near its close no more mock shapes assumes,
Engulph'd, for ever, in Egyptian glooms!

In that tumultuous track of Pride and Spleen,
Love, sweet celestial Seraph! never seen—
Her representative an impious Prude,
Of specious manners, but profane, and lewd,
A mass of folly, impudence, and art,
Nam'd Affectation, personates her part;
Whose mimic skill calls trifling Minds astray,
With whims, and self-deception, all the Way!

Meantime, like Fashion's evanescent forms,
Or figures, frail, that skirt departing storms—
Like morning mists which end in midday show'rs,
Or fall'n leaves fluttering wild, in woods and bow'rs—
Like shadows passing o'er the chequer'd plains,
Or bubbles, rising from the falling rains—
Like vernal flow'rs of various forms, and hues—
Or bright prismatic drops of sparkling dews—
Like snows, dissolving in bright solar beams;
Or fleeting troops that dance in figur'd dreams,
Before Death's awful face the crowds decay,
And melt, each hour, in multitudes, away!
Reduc'd to scatter'd groups, or trembling bands,
Till here, and there, a straggling Mortal stands,
With agonizing hearts, and looks aghast,
Lest every languid pulse should prove the last!
Each insulated Wretch, that thus remains,
Beholds no prospect but fears, woes, and pains—
Curs'd expectation—and perpetual cry—
Much loathing Life—yet dreading more to die!
At Time's last steps no mitigation's known;
All grating torture, and terrific groan!
Still rack'd Reflection, bringing back the past,
Shriveling the Soul like leaves by wintry blast—
While aggravating Conscience takes her turn,
To freeze, with fear, or hot forebodings, burn—
Her stripes forestalling, with fierce, wrathful, rod,
The future fury of an anger'd God!