University of Virginia Library

Unhappy Man! how ill in Thee are Join'd,
A Feeble Body, and an Active Mind.
A Soul of Fire, a Body but of Earth;
That do from different Regions draw their Birth:
One Natu'rally doth tend to Heaven above;
Th' Other tow'rd Earth, from whence it came, doth move.
When such Discordant Parts in Man do meet,
They Justle and each other roughly Greet:
The Motions of the Soul the Body sway,
Which every Nod and Impulse should obey:
But at each Sally of the Towring Mind,
With wearied Journeys That doth lag behind.

Thoughts are our Plagues; the Beasts, that none do know,
Are Free from trouble and resentment too.
As Nature bids, they every thing receive,
And take it, as her Bounteous Hand doth give.
No pining Thoughts do sowre the Joys, they tast,
No preying Passion doth their Body wast;
While Ours by the Souls Motion's worn so thin;
'Twill scarce keep Life, and Breath, Life's Tenant, in.
At Things above Ambition makes us Soar,
And grasp at what is plac'd beyond our Power:
Our feeble Strength we ne'r consult: And then
No wonder, We are tumbled back again.
A chain of Sorrows hangs upon our State:
We for Impossibilities do wait,
Anxiously seek for what will never come,
And yet are angry, when We meet our Doom.
The fault doth not in outward Causes ly,
But in our Judgment, that is warp'd awry.
Our Power's confin'd, and we should Happy be,
If We the Limits of our Power could see.
If We could fix our wandring Thoughts at home,
Nor let beyond our Sphear our Wishes roam,
All things, We see, are Passive here below,
Nor from themselves their Power-to-act doth flow,
They'r dead, unless some greater Essence give
Influx of being, that may make them Live.
'Tis only Heaven doth purely act, and can,
Crumble in Dust the vast Designs of Man:
His Will must stand, whatever We Design,
Nothing can stop the course of things Divine.
All Aids are useless; what is Infinite,
Doth need no Help, nor doth Increase admit.

How Happy Man, was He intirely One,
Nor did admit of Composition;
Was his Æthereal Soul of Heavenly breed,
Like Angels, from the clogs of Matter freed:
Or, like the Beasts, only with Flesh array'd,
And only of unthinking Matter made.
One State would all his Hopes and Thoughts exceed;
By th' Other He would from all Care be freed.
Excess of Joy in One his Soul would Crown;
In th' Other Ignorance all Fears would drown.