Poems on Several Occasions :: :: University of Virginia Library

Pleasures, like Syrens, still invite,
And with delusive Charms,
Bewitching Baits of soft Delight,
Allure th' unwary to their Arms:
The thoughtless Many drawn away
By sweet inticing Lays,
Soon fall a voluntary Prey,
And meanly end their Days:
While the more manly, and the brave,
Themselves by Resolution save:
As on the boist'rous Sea of Life they sail,
With watchful Eyes,
A Vigilance which ne'er can fail,
They mark the Skies, the Rocks, the Sands:
Still at the Helm their Reason stands,
When she the fatal Isle descries,
And each Inchantress sees prepare
To tune her Voice, and lay her Snare.
She loudly cries, O my lov'd Charge, beware:
Fly, quickly fly that dang'rous Shore;
O see! with Bones 'tis cover'd o'er:
Let others Ruin make you wise;
Remote from them your Safety lies:
They none but thoughtless Fools surprize.

2.

They can't to you now wing their Way,
Their Plumes the Muses now adorn;
They only can by Wiles betray:
You their united Force may scorn.
Be like the wise Ulysses bound,
Pernicious freedom shun,
Be deaf to ev'ry flatt'ring Sound;
The most are by themselves undone:
How few like Orpheus dare depend
On their superior Skill,
How few with good Success attend
The fickle Motions of their Will!
None but exalted Souls who move
By the Direction of celestial Love:
Who soar aloft, and full of heav'nly Fire,
To the Perfection of their kind aspire,
Who with Contempt view ev'ry thing below,
And to the Source of Pleasure go,
That pure, unmix'd, eternal Spring,
From whence those muddy Rivers flow,
With which we strive to quench our Thirst;
To which we rav'nous Cravings bring;
And are with wish'd Repletion curst:
When we the largest Draughts obtain,
We but oppressing Burthens gain;
Which only swell the Mind,
And when they're gone, leave an uncomfortable Void behind.

3.

Such Souls alone with Airs Divine
Always themselves delight:
In vain their Skill the Tempters try,
They both the Tempters, and their Skill defie;
Their Notes are lost in Strains more bold and high,
Asham'd they quit their vain Design,
And full of anxious Spight,
With drooping Heads repine;
While th' joyful Victors onward move,
And chaunt the Praise of him above,
Of him, who does their Art bestow,
From whom harmonious Numbers flow:
Thrice happy they who thus can live,
Can on the mounting Billows ride,
Can to themselves Contentment give,
And void of Fear, and void of Pride,
To lofty Heights themselves can raise,
And sweetly warble out their Days,
Regardless of designing, meaner Lays.