 | Poems on Several Occasions |  |
30
AN ODE.
I.
What art thou, Life, whose Stay we court?What is thy Rival Death we fear?
Since we're but fickle Fortune's Sport,
Why shou'd we wish t'inhabit here;
And think the Race we find so rough too short?
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II.
While in the Womb we forming lie,While yet the Lamp of Life displays
A doubtful Dawn with feeble Rays,
New issuing from Non-Entity.
The Shell of Flesh pollutes with Sin
Its Gem, the Soul, just enter'd in;
And, by transmitted Vice defil'd,
The Fiend commences with the Child.
III.
In this dark Region future Fates are bred,And Mines of secret Ruin laid:
Hot Fevers here, long kindling lie,
Prepar'd with flaming Whips to rage;
And lash on ling'ring Destiny;
Whene'er Excess has fir'd our riper Age.
Here brood in Infancy the Gout and Stone,
Fruits of our Fathers Follies, not our own.
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For here our guiltless Mothers give
Poison for Food, when first we live.
Hence noisom Humours sweat thro' ev'ry Pore,
And blot us with an undistinguish'd Sore:
Nor mov'd with Beauty, will the dire Disease
Forbear on faultless Forms to seize;
But vindicates the good, the gay,
The wise, the young, its common Prey
Had all conjoyn'd in one, had Pow'r to save,
The Muses had not wept o'er Blandford's Grave.
IV.
The Spark of pure Ætherial Light,That actuates this fleeting Frame,
Darts thro' the Cloud of Flesh a sickly Flame,
And seems a Glow-Worm in a Winter-Night.
But Man would yet look wondrous wise.
And equal Chains of Thought devise;
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Refutes, defines, confirms, declaims;
And Diagrams he draws t' explain
The learn'd Chimera's of his Brain;
And with imaginary Wisdom proud,
Thinks on the Goddess while he clips the Cloud.
V.
Thro' Error's mazy Grove, with fruitless Toil,Perplex'd with puzz'ling Doubts we roam;
False Images our Sight beguile,
But still we stumble thro' the Gloom,
And Science seek, which still deludes the Mind.
Yet more inamour'd with the Race,
With disproportion'd Speed we urge the Chace:
In vain! the various Prey no Bounds restrain;
Fleeting it only leaves t' increase our Pain,
A cold unsatisfying Scent behind.
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VI.
Yet, gracious God! presumptuous ManWith random Guesses makes Pretence
To sound thy searchless Providence
From which he first began.
Like hooded Hawks we blindly tow'r,
And circumscribe, with fancy'd Laws, thy Pow'r.
Thy Will the rolling Orbs obey,
The Moon presiding o'er the Sea,
Governs the Waves with equal Sway.
But Man perverse, and lawless still,
Boldly runs counter to thy Will;
Thy patient Thunder he defies:
Lays down false Principles; and moves,
By what his vicious Choice approves;
And when he's vainly wicked, thinks he's wise.
VII.
Return, return, too long misled!35
E'er the vast Deep of Heav'n was spread,
Or Body first in Space abode,
Glories ineffable adorn'd his Head.
Unnumber'd Seraphs round the burning Throne,
Sung to th' incomprehensible Three-One:
Yet then his Clemency did please
With lower Forms t' augment his Train;
And made thee, wretched Creature, Man,
Probationer of Happiness.
VIII.
On the vast Ocean of his Wonders here,We momentary Bubbles ride;
'Till crush'd by the tempestuous Tide,
Sunk in the Parent Flood, we disappear:
We, who so gawdy on the Waters shone,
Proud, like the show'ry Bow, with Beauties not our own.
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IX.
But at the Signal giv'n, this Earth and SeaShall set their sleeping Vassals free;
And the belov'd of God,
The Faithful, and the Just,
Like Aaron's chosen Rod,
Tho' dry, shall blossom in the Dust:
Then gladly bounding from their dark Restraints,
The Skeletons shall brighten into Saints;
And, from Mortality refin'd, shall rise
To meet their Saviour coming in the Skies:
Instructed then by Intuition, we
Shall the vain Efforts of our Wisdom see;
Shall then impartially confess
Our Demonstration was but guess;
That Knowledge, which from human Reason flows,
Unless Religion guide its Course,
And Faith her steady Mounds oppose,
Is Ignorance at best, and often worse.
| Poems on Several Occasions | |