A New Volume of Familiar Letters Partly Philosophical, Political, Historical, The Third Edition, with Additions. By James Hovvell |
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To Mr. R. K. |
 | A New Volume of Familiar Letters |  |
107
To Mr. R. K.
1
Weak crazy Mortall, why dost fearTo leave this earthly Hemisphear?
Where all delights away do passe,
Like thy effigies in a glasse.
Each thing beneath the Moon is fraile and fickle,
Death sweeps away what time cuts with his sickle.
2
This life, at best, is but an Inn,And we the passengers wherin
The cloth is layed so som, before
They peep out of dame nature's dore,
And warm lodgings left, Others ther are
Must trudg to find a room, and shift for fare.
3
This life's, at longest, but one day,He who in youth posts hence away,
108
His race till Manhood, parts at noon,
And who at seventy odd forsakes this light,
He may be said to take his leave at night.
4
One past maketh up the Prince and peasan,Though one cat roots, the other seasan,
They nothing differ in the stuffe,
But both extinguish like a snuffe:
Why then fond man should thy soul take dismay,
To sally out of these gross walls of clay?
| A New Volume of Familiar Letters | |