(seq. 58)

52

But why so anxcious to dispoil thyself

Of life, that leaps unbounded into being,

Which all thy art can ne'er deprive thee of,

And which its essence shows when breath shall rise

Which magnifies the soul or gives it vent,

To exercise the thot, that constant flows

From spirit pure, without the cumbrous lead,

That clogs its active flight whilst here below,

Beneath the pondrous weight of matter dull

And corpulency all to motion set ~

Why thus impatient of a truth so dear,

That will not suffer death to plung thee down

And lock the fast in non existent arms ~

Aspatius courts for pleasures of an hour,

And fondly grasps the short liv'd blaze with haste

And in the merry throng would startle at

The distant thot, that would detain the laugh

Or cut it short with instantaneous death;

Then only indulge the wish to fall to naught

Forgetful of thyself & there to end ~