Fix'd are thofe limits, which prefcribe
A fhort extent to the most lafting breath;
And though thou could'st for sacrifice lay down
Millions of other lives to fave thy own,
'Twere fruitlefs all; not all would bribe
One fupernumerary gafp from death.
In vain 's thy inexhausted store
Of wealth, in vain thy power;
Thy honours, titles, all muft fail,
Where Piety itself can nought avail.
The rich, the great, the innocent, and just,
Muft all be huddled to the grave,
With the most vile and ignominious flave,
And undistinguish'd lie in duft.
In vain the fearful flies alarms,
In vain he is fecure from wounds of arms,
In vain avoids the faithlefs feas,
And is confin'd to home and ease,
Bounding his knowledge, to extend his days,
In vain are all thofe arts we try,
All our evasions, and regret to die :
From the contagion of mortality,
No clime is pure, no air is free:
Is fo obfcure, as to be hid from fate
Thou must, alas! thou muft, my friend; (The very hour thou now doft spend In ftudying to avoid, brings on thy end)
Thou must forego the deareft joys of life;
Leave the warm bofom of thy tender wife,
And all the much-lov'd offspring of her womb,
To moulder in the cold embraces of a tomb.
All must be left, and all be loft';
Thy house, whofe ftately structure fo much coft,
Shall not afford
Room for the stinking carcafe of its lord.
Of all thy pleasant gardens, grots, and bowers,
Thy coftly fruits, thy far-fetch'd plants and flowers, Nought fhalt thou fave;
Or but a sprig of rosemary fhalt have,
To wither with thee in the grave:
The rest shall live and flourish, to upbraid
Their tranfitory master dead.
Then fhall thy long-expecting heir
A joyful mourning wear:
And riot in the wafte of that eftate
Which thou haft taken fo much pains to get.
All thy hid ftores he fhall unfold,
And fet at large thy captive gold.
That precious wine, condemn'd by thee,
To vaults and prisons, shall again be free:
Bury'd alive though now it lies,
Again fhall rife;
Again its fparkling furface show,
And free as element profufely flow.
With fuch high food he fhall fet forth his feafts,
That cardinals fhall with to be his guests;
And pamper'd prelates fee
Themfelves outdone in luxury.
BLESS me, 'tis cold! how chill the air!
How naked does the world appear!
But fee (big with the offspring of the north)
The teeming clouds bring forth :
A shower of foft and fleecy rain
Falls, to new-cloath the earth again.
Behold the mountain-tops around,
As if with fur of ermins crown'd;
And lo! how by degrees
The univerfal mantle hides the trees,
In hoary flakes, which downward fly,
As if it were the Autumn of the sky:
Trembling, the groves fuftain the weight, and bow
Like aged limbs, which feebly go
Beneath a venerable head of fnow.
Diffufive cold does the whole earth invade,
Like a disease, through all its veins 'tis spread,
And each late living stream is numb'd and dead.
Let's melt the frozen hours, make warm the air;
Let chearful fires Sol's feeble beams repair;
Fill the large bowl with fparkling wine;
Let's drink 'till our own faces fhine,
Till we like funs appear,
To light and warm the hemifphere.
Wine can difpenfe to all both light and heat,
They are with wine incorporate:
That powerful juice, with which no cold dares mix,
Which ftill is fluid, and no froft can fix;
Let that but in abundance flow,
And let it ftorm and thunder, hail and fnow,
'Tis heaven's concern; and let it be
The care of heaven ftill for me:
Thofe winds, which rend the oaks and plough the feas, Great Jove can, if he please,
With one commanding nod appease.
Seek not to know to-morrow's doom;
That is not ours, which is to come.
The prefent moment's all our ftore:
The next, fhould heaven allow,
Then this will be no more:
So all our life is but one instant now.
Look on each day you 've past
To be a mighty treasure won :
And lay each moment out in hafte;
We're fure to live too fast,
And cannot live too foon.
Youth doth a thoufand pleafures bring,
Which from decrepit age will fly ;
The flowers that flourish in the spring,
In winter's cold embraces die,
Now Love, that everlasting boy, invites
To revel while you may, in foft delights:
Now the kind nymph yields all her charms,
Nor yields in vain to youthful arms.
Slowly fhe promises at night to meet,
But eagerly prevents the hour with swifter feet.
To gloomy groves and fhades obfcure the flies,
There veils the bright confeffion of her eyes.
Unwillingly she stays,
Would more unwillingly depart,
And in foft fighs conveys
The whispers of her heart.
Still the invites and still denies,
And vows the 'll leave you if you 're rude;
Then from her ravisher she flies,
But flies to be purfu'd :
If from his fight fhe does herfelf convey,
With a feign'd laugh fhe will herself betray,
And cunningly inftru&t him in the way.
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