224
Poems on
Who safely landed on the blissful Shore,
Nor human Folly feels nor Frailty more!
O! Death, thou Cure of all our idle Strife!
End of the gay, or serious Farce of Life!
Wish of the Just, and Refuge of th' Opprest!
Where Poverty, and where ev'n Kings find Rest!
Safe, from the Frowns of Pow'r! calm, thoughtful Hate!
And the rude Insults of the scornful Great!
The Grave is sacred! Wrath, and Malice dread
To violate its Peace, and wrong the Dead:
But, Life, thy Name is Woe! to Death we fly
To grow immortal!———into Life we die!
Then wisely Heav'n in Silence has confin'd
The happier Dead, lest none should stay behind.
What tho' the Path be dark that must be trod,
Tho' Man be blotted from the Works of God,
Nor human Folly feels nor Frailty more!
O! Death, thou Cure of all our idle Strife!
End of the gay, or serious Farce of Life!
Wish of the Just, and Refuge of th' Opprest!
Where Poverty, and where ev'n Kings find Rest!
Safe, from the Frowns of Pow'r! calm, thoughtful Hate!
And the rude Insults of the scornful Great!
The Grave is sacred! Wrath, and Malice dread
To violate its Peace, and wrong the Dead:
But, Life, thy Name is Woe! to Death we fly
To grow immortal!———into Life we die!
Then wisely Heav'n in Silence has confin'd
The happier Dead, lest none should stay behind.
What tho' the Path be dark that must be trod,
Tho' Man be blotted from the Works of God,
Tho'
