Miscellanies in Verse and Prose | ||
The WISH.
Ye Pow'rs, who sway the Skies above,The Load of Mortal Life remove:
I cannot, lab'ring thus, sustain
Th'excessive Burthen of my Pain!
A Dance of Pleasures, hurrying by,
Enduring Griefs, a Glimpse of Joy;
With Blessings of a brittle Kind,
Inconstant, shifting as the Wind,
Are all your Suppliant has known,
Since first his ling'ring Race begun.
In Pity, then, pronounce my Fate,
And here conclude my shorten'd Date;
'Tis all I ask you, to bestow
A safe Retreat from future Woe!
Miscellanies in Verse and Prose | ||