 | Poems on several grave and important subjects (1719) |  |
Thoughts on Humane Life.
An Ode. To my Sister.
I
Believe it, Delia, Life's a Scene,In various Colours pictur'd o'er;
A thousand Prospects entertain
Our Eyes each Day unknown to us before.
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II
When in our young and tender YearsWe look abroad, in fair Disguise
A World of Pleasure soon appears,
To court our Minds, and captivate our Eyes.
III
While yet the Thoughts are free of Cares,What gay Allurements have we known?
How flatt'ring are the fatal Snares,
Which solid Reason charges us to shun?
IV
No Grief, no Tears disturb the Mind,No Jealousies our Joys allay,
But Charms and Hopes of every kind
Our Fancies cheat, and all our Conduct sway.
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V
A Thousand Beauties in the SpringAfford a Pleasure to the Sight;
Then all the Fields are promising:
They sooth our Hopes, and fill us with Delight.
VI
Thus heedless up the Hill of TimeBy small Degrees we soon ascend,
From thence we see our Sun decline,
And all our Joys dispatching to an End.
VII
Our mighty Bliss grows fugitive,Our Hopes and fond Delights are flown,
When Youth, the Time we seem to live,
Beyond Redemption is remov'd, and gone.
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VIII
Now Care, and Toil, and Sickness come,The constant Train of growing Years,
And Death's inexorable Doom,
'Ere we're aware, within our View appears.
IX
The Dregs, which to the Bottom sink,Of all the Wine our Youth devour'd,
Remain for latter Years to drink,
When Joy is fled, and Life with Sorrow sour'd.
X
The soft Ideas fly away,That wander'd in our youthful Minds,
Our Wit and Beauty now decay,
As Leaves from Trees before the Western Winds.
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XI
The glaring Colours that allur'dAnd pleas'd at first the ravish'd Eye,
Are alter'd quite, are all obscur'd
With different Draughts of a more dismal Dye.
XII
The Thorns that former Years have sown,Unheeded by us in our Youth,
To Crops of late Repentance grown,
Afford us Toil, and smartly charge our Sloth.
XIII
Then tir'd with Cares, with Labour spent,With thousand Miseries oppress'd,
We seek for Time, but to lament
That youthful Fancies rob'd our Minds of Rest.
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XIV
Improve then, Delia, present Time,And put no Trust in fading Toys;
E'er long your Life will reach the Prime,
And then Farewel to sublunary Joys.
XV
Who knows but all your blooming CharmsMay blasted be before they bear?
Youth's not secure from Death's Alarms,
Nor are the best Enjoyments lasting here.
XVI
Our Brother in the Pride of LifeResign'd to Fate his precious Breath:
Awhile he held a generous Strife;
But who is Proof against the Darts of Death?
| Poems on several grave and important subjects (1719) | |