(seq. 57)

51

Id drive them from my thots, & try to prove

A future state of an eternal length,

Where virtue would triumphant rise,

And in the lap of bliss without alloy,

Would end, when endless ages cut the thread

Of an immortal, & eternal length ~

What pleasure fills the thot, that death shall ne'er invade

Invade, that part of man, that feels delight

Of joy substantial & supremely rich,

That captivate the intellect & swells

With plentitude the vast expanded soul,

That's scarcely bounded by infinity ~

To think the soul must into vapor turn

And all evaporate to empty air,

Unconcious of the fertile scenes, in which

I once did act a part, with reason crown'd,

And capable of pleasure & of pain,

Would sting my soul with all the horrors that,

A hell could rool upon my torturd sence ~