University of Virginia Library

The Woes of Life my Muse, in proper Strains,
Attempts to sing; but who can fully shew
Their various Kinds, and reckon up the Sum?
Since the first Man an easy Conquest fell,
By Disobedience, to malicious Pow'rs,
None is exempt in any Stage of Life
From various Troubles and afflicting Woes.
Embark'd in Sorrows from the Infant Birth,
Poor we roul on, and stem the rapid Floods,
'Till Lethe's Gulph, ah deadful Gulph to some!
Or cures for ever, or enhanses Pain.
The Mind, unite to mortal Flesh, deplores
The fatal Miseries destin'd to be born,
But suffers on without the least Redress,
As wretched Slaves in Gallies toil incessant.
If short Respite the Series of Grief
For a few Minutes interrupts, again
The Pangs of Sorrow, with the greater Force,
Return, and crown the Miseries of Life.
One Woe, when past, is by another urg'd,
And follows close where'er we take our Flight.
As Sisiphus with an eternal Toil
The bulky Stone roll'd up the Mountain's Brow,
While always downward to the mighty Center
The Weight inclin'd, and still renew'd his Pain.

Good Heav'ns! What Ills are Mortals doom'd to bear?
Stone, Gout and Cholick, Fevers, Fire and Sword,
And all th' inseparable Train of Grief,
In various Kinds attend our Steps for ever,
Oppos'd by all the healing Hands in vain.
A thousand Racks in dire Vicissitude
Torment, but keep in sad Suspence, the Life.
Bruises and Bones disjointed, and the Limbs
Broke thro' by Labour, or unlucky Chance,
The Sinews strain'd, and ulcerous Sores oppress,
And gall the Body, while the wretched Mind
In Sympathy endures corroding Woe.
Misfortunes on Misfortunes, like the Waves,
Swell o'er our Heads, and dash us down in Sorrow.
They hang, like Winter, on our youthful Hope,
And blast the Spring and Promise of our Age;
While hoary Hairs, a Burden by themselves,
Are join'd with all that can impair the Vigour,
And end the Days of momentary Life.
Oft Wounds from foreign Violence we feel,
And fall in Snares by hellish Art contriv'd.
Now Foes attack for privily disguise
Their secret Mance till a fitter Time;
And then with Interest on our Names, or Persons,
The sad Arrears of their suspended Rage
Are paid, while we in vain implore for Mercy.
Now Friends turn faithless, and betray our Cause,
Which aggravates our cutting Pains within:
Then poison'd Arrows of malicious Tongues,
And sly Insinuations to our Hurt,
Improve our Errors, and our Virtues wrong.
Our Goods are ruffled, and our Fame despoil'd,
By sad Oppressors, and misguided Zeal;
Or Property by arbitrary Powe'rs
Is rob'd, while we in vain for a Redress,
With earnest Cries, and mournful Moan, implore.
Troops of Misfortunes, in a smart Career,
Or by slow Pace, protract the narrow Span,
While to the Grave we for Deliv'rance cry,
But cry in vain to the relentless Fates.
Myriads of Ills assault us from without,
Complete our Misery, and o'erturn the Patience;
Yet native Woes that lodge within our Breast
Are of all Pains most dangerous and sore.
We noxious Insects in our Bowels feed,
And our own Tyrants too much entertain.
The Spleen with sullen Vapors binds the Spirits,
Obscures the Brain, and causes Woe sincere,
Howe'er Fantastick be the fatal Cause.
High Passions bluster in the Mind, like Winds;
Mistrust, Suspicion, Discord, Anger, Hate,
Mis-tune the Soul with Fury turbulent.
The Will is stubborn, the Affections carnal,
The Understanding clouded, and subdued
By ruling Appetite of Sense, which now
Usurps o'er sov'reign Reason, and commands
The whole of us with uncontrolled Sway.
Sometimes we headlong, by our Passions led,
In thousand Snares and sad Disasters fall.
Sometimes they struggle in our Breasts, and kindle
A very Wildfire, and create a Broil
Or Civil War, harassing all the Soul.
Thus tortur'd we from Place to Place repair;
From Side to Side in vain for Rest we turn:
Of Night impatient we demand the Day:
The Day once come, we long for dusky Night:
All things in order happen, but Relief
From our Distraction and tormenting Woes.
The Heav'n and Earth resound with Cries and Murmurs
Of ev'ry Age, and Quality, and Sex.
From first to last our Life's a wretched Scene
Of various Sorrows and tormenting Pain.