Why shou'd the Fear of certain Death surprize
A Mortal Man? who living, daily dies;
Death is born with him, he but for it lives,
He then in vain, to shun or 'scape it strives;
Since from his Birth, he but begins to die,
By Life consumes, though imperceptibly;
So Death, the Thoughts of which does Life torment,
Is less Life's End, than its Accomplishment;
Then Death shou'd neither be Man's Fear, or Grief,
Which from all Fear, Pain, Grief, is his Relief;
So he from Sense fears Death, most senslessly,
Who hopes, by Death, for Immortality,
Yet fears, but out of Love of Life, to die;
From his Sense, by which he wou'd shun Mistakes,
Himself more guilty of more Error makes;
Proud of that Reason, which deludes him, so;
Which against Nature, makes him think, talk, do,
More than Beasts, who less against Nature live,
For Want of Thought, which more does Man deprive
Of Joys, he thinks more for it to receive;
Who, for his Reason, but so Sensless grows,
His Will, he to his Nature will oppose,
Which, by his Reas'ning, more his Folly shows;
Since he finds by his own Experience still,
In vain, his Reason wou'd oppose his Will,
Or thwart his Nature, which he well does know,
He must yield to, whether he will, or no;
Then Reason grows but more Impertinence,
Which wou'd withstand our Senses with our Sense;
Which wou'd make Fancy thwart Experience more,
As less Man finds, that it is in his Pow'r;
Who, by his Reason, proves but more a Brute,
Whose Passions, for it, are more absolute,
Which him shou'd, of its Weakness, more confute;
Who to his Passion, 'gainst his Reason, so
Is made to yield, whether he wou'd, or no,
Who, tho' he Talks like Man, like Beasts must do;
So that, Man has less Reason for his Sense,
But as to more still, he has more pretence,
Then has, as more Sense, less Intelligence;
Whose Weak Sense thwarts more Pow'rful Nature more,
But as the less, he finds, 'tis in his pow'r;
Then Man, less Wise is, as he more wou'd know,
Whose Knowledge must, more Guilt and Trouble grow,
And consequently, prove most Folly so;
Which, by its Fore-sight, and its Providence,
But makes its Reas'ning its Impertinence,
Man's Guilt, and Fear more, but as more his Sense;
Which makes his dubious Dread, or Mischiefs sure,
His Fore-sight, those he wou'd avoid, procure,
To feel them, e'er they come, the Past Endure;
To doubt the Present Good, and undergo
The Future Ill, whether it comes, or no;
Till Reason, Man's best-Guide, does rather grow
His Thought's Confusion, than his Proof of Sense;
Who, but much less, the Cause, and Consequence
Of Ills to come, by his vain Prescience knows,
Which, on his Knowledge, wou'd his Guess impose;
Till that his Reason's Intellectual Sight,
Grows but the Blinder, for its too much Light;
That Ignis Fatuus , his Reason, so,
Does his False Guide, of his Conductor, grow;
Leads him, from his Experience, more astray,
The more that it pretends, to clear his Way;
Whose Search of Knowledge, more adds to his Doubt,
Plung'd in more Error, as he'd more get out.