Poems Upon Several Occasions | ||
128
The VANITY.
I
Poor fading Pleasures to pursue,I know 'tis base, as well as you;
But whilst this Lump of Flesh I wear,
From doing so I can't forbear;
The old deceiving Serpent still
Corrupts and vitiates my Will.
II
From her blest Heart there flows a Line,Which Nature made, and grapples mine.
Secret as that which tyes the Mind,
When to the Body 'tis confin'd:
If I love on, blame me no more,
Can I with Nature run in score?
III
When I reside in Egypt's Fields.My Soul must taste on what it yields;
129
Canaan the lovely wish'd for Home,
On nobler Objects I shall rove,
And feed on a Diviner Love.
Poems Upon Several Occasions | ||