Aid me Narciffa! aid me to keep Pace With Destiny; and e'er her Sciffars cut My thread of Life, to break this tougher Thread Of Moral Death, that ties me to the World. Sting thou my flumb'ring Reafon to fend forth A Thought of Observation on the Foe; To fally, and furvey the rapid March Of his ten thousand Meffengers to Man; Who, Jebu-like, behind him turns them all. All Accident apart, by Nature fign'd, My Warrant is gone out, tho' dormant yet; Perhaps behind one Moment lurks my Fate.

Must I then forward only look for Death? Backward I turn mine Eye, and find him there. Man is a Self-furvivor ev'ry Year.

Man, like a Stream, is in perpetual Flow.

Death's a destroyer of Quotidian prey.

My

My Youth, my Noon-tide, His; my refterday;

The bold Invader fhares the prefent Hour.

Each Moment on the former fhuts the Grave.
While Man is growing, Life is in Decrease;
And Cradles rock us nearer to the Tomb.
Our Birth is nothing but our Death begun;
As Tapers wafte, that Inftant they take Fire.

Shall we then fear, left that should come to pafs, Which comes to pass each Moment of our Lives? If fear we must, let that Death turn us pale

Which murders Strength, and Ardor; what remains
Should rather call on Death than dread his Call.
Ye partners of my Fault, and my decline!

Thoughtless of Death, but when your Neighbour's
[Knell
(Rude Vifitant!) knocks hard at your dull Senfe,
And with its Thunder, fcarce obtains your Ear!
Be Death your Theme, in ev'ry place and hour,
Nor longer want, ye Monumental Sires!

A Brother

A Brother Tomb to tell you you fhall Die.

That Death you dread (fo great is Nature's Skill !) Know, you fhall court, before you fhall Enjoy.

But you are learn'd; in Volumes, deep you fit; In Wisdom fhallow: pompous Ignorance! Would you be still more learned, than the Learn'd? Learn well to know how much need not be known. And what that Knowledge, which impares your Senfe. Our needful Knowledge, like our needful Food, Unhedg'd, lies open in Life's common field; And bids all welcome to the Vital Feaft.

You fcorn what lies before you in the Page

Of Nature, and Experience, Moral Truth;
Of indifpenfible, Eternal Fruit;

Fruit, on which Mortals feeding turn to Gods;
And dive in Science for diftinguifht Names,
Dishoneft Fomentation of your Pride;

Sinking in Virtue, as you rife in Fame.

རྩྭ

Your

Your Learning, like the Lunar Beam, affords
Light, but not Heat; It leaves You undevout,
Frozen at Heart, while Speculation fhines.
Awake, ye curious Indagators! fond

Of knowing All, but what avails you

If

you

known.

would learn Death's Character; attend.

All cafts of Conduct, all degrees of Health,

All dies of Fortune, and all dates of Age,

Together shook in his impartial Urn,

Come forth at random. Or if Choice is made,
The Choice is quite farcaftic, and insults

All bold Conjecture, and fond Hopes of Man.
What countless Multitudes, not only leave,
But deeply disappoint us, by their Deaths?
Tho' great our Sorrow, greater our Surprize..

Like other Tyrants, Death delights to fmite, What smitten, moft proclaims the Pride of Power, And arbitrary Nod. His Joy fupreme,

Το

To bid the Wretch furvive the Fortunate ;

The Feeble, wrap th' Athletic in his Shroud;

And weeping Fathers, build their Children's Tomb ;
Me Thine, Narcissa !-What tho' short thy Date?
Virtue, not rolling Suns, the Mind matures.

That Life is long, which anfwers Life's great End:
The Time that bears no Fruit, deserves no Name;
The Man of Wisdom is the Man of Years.
In hoary Youth Methusalem's may die,

O how misdated on their flattering Tombs?

Narciffa's Youth has lectur'd me thus far.
And can her Gaiety give Council too?
That, like the Jews fam'd Oracle of Gems,
Sparkles Inftruction; such as throws new Light,
And opens more the Character of Death;

Ill known to thee, Lorenzo! This thy Vaunt,

* Give Death his Due, the Wretched, and the Old, "E'en let him sweep his Rubbish to the Grave;

"Let