Several Occasions.
223
As some fond Boy, in Sport along the Shore
Builds from the Sands a Fabric of an Hour;
Proud of his rising Walls, and stately Rooms,
He stiles the mimic Cells imperial Domes:
The little Monarch swells with fancy'd Sway,
Till some Wind rise, and puffs the Dome away;
So the poor Reptile, Man! an Heir of Woe,
The Lord of Earth and Ocean, swells in Show;
He plants, he builds, aloft the Walls arise!
The noble Plan he finishes, and—dies.
Swept from the Earth, he shares the common Fate,
His sole Distinction now, to rot in State!
Thus busy to no end till out of Breath,
Tir'd we lie down, and close up all in Death.
Builds from the Sands a Fabric of an Hour;
Proud of his rising Walls, and stately Rooms,
He stiles the mimic Cells imperial Domes:
The little Monarch swells with fancy'd Sway,
Till some Wind rise, and puffs the Dome away;
So the poor Reptile, Man! an Heir of Woe,
The Lord of Earth and Ocean, swells in Show;
He plants, he builds, aloft the Walls arise!
The noble Plan he finishes, and—dies.
Swept from the Earth, he shares the common Fate,
His sole Distinction now, to rot in State!
Thus busy to no end till out of Breath,
Tir'd we lie down, and close up all in Death.
Then blest the Man whom gracious Heav'n has led
Thro' Life's blind Mazes to th' immortal Dead!
Thro' Life's blind Mazes to th' immortal Dead!
Who
