Then mark the warnings of the wise, Far to the right thy prospect bend, " Fruits immature those lands dispense, A food indelicate to sense, Of taste unpleasant; yet from those "Hence, as they scale that heav'nly road, Each limb is lighten'd of its load; From earth refining still they go, And leave the mortal weight below; Then spreads the straight, the doubtful clears, And smooth the rugged path appears; For custom turns fatigue to ease, And, taught by Virtue, Pain can please. "At length the toilsome journey o'er, And near the bright celestial shore, A gulf, black, fearful, and profound, Through darkness leading up to light; Of time, and form, and care, and pain, Thither, O thither wing thy speed, Though pleasure charm, or pain impede; To such th' all-bounteous pow'r has giv'n, For present earth, a future heav'n; For trivial loss, unmeasur'd gain, And endless bliss, for transient pain. "Then fear, ah! fear to turn thy sight, Where yonder flow'ry fields invite; For death is vegetable there. "Hence is the frame of health unbrac'd, Each sinew slack'ning at the taste, Then mark the warnings of the wise, Far to the right thy prospect bend, "Fruits immature those lands dispense, A food indelicate to sense, Of taste unpleasant; yet from those Throughout the long laborious way. "Hence, as they scale that heav'nly road, Each limb is lighten'd of its load; From earth refining still they go, And leave the mortal weight below; Then spreads the straight, the doubtful clears, And smooth the rugged path appears; For custom turns fatigue to ease, And, taught by Virtue, Pain can please. "At length the toilsome journey o'er, And near the bright celestial shore, A gulf, black, fearful, and profound, Through darkness leading up to light; Of time, and form, and care, and pain, "Thither, O thither wing thy speed, Though pleasure charm, or pain impede; To such th' all-bounteous pow'r has giv’u, For present earth, a future heav'n; For trivial loss, unmeasur'd gain, And endless bliss, for transient pain: "Then fear, ah! fear to turn thy sight, Where yonder flow'ry fields invite; For death is vegetable there. "Hence is the frame of health unbrac'd, Each sinew slack'ning at the taste, The soul to passion yields her throne, And sees with organs not her own; While, like the slumb'rer in the night, Pleas'd with the shadowy dream of light, Before her alienated eyes, The scenes of fairy-land arise; The puppet world's amusing show, Dipt in the gaily-colour'd bow, Sceptres, and wreaths, and glitt'ring things, The toys of infants, and of kings, That tempt along the baneful plain "But list to what thy fates declare; And ev'ry foot thy presence fly." Thus arm'd with words of potent sound, Like guardian-angels plac'd around, A charm by truth divinely cast, Forward our young advent'rer pass'd. |