Classic Poem

Begin, my muse, and in a nobler strain
Try to unravel the decrees of fate;
And search into the real cause of things!
Unfetter'd from the chains of rhime now soar
(Vain boast) beyond the regions of the sky,
As far as tow'ring fancy's flight can reach.
How dark and intricate are all the ways
Of fate! yet proud ambitious man presumes
Assisted by his reason to explore
Things infinite, beyond the ken of thought.
Something there is within this strange machine,
Which elevates my mind, and makes me dive
Too deep in fate. How came I to exist?
Whence am I? Tell me, ye immortal pow'rs;
Why from the peaceful bosom of the earth
Rais'd into being in a world of ills,
To run the chance of an immortal state
In dark perdition, or the realms of bliss?
Except the great benevolence of God
Foresaw, that this exertion of his pow'r
Would terminate in good to all mankind.
How is that noble spirit of the soul
Infus'd into the body? whence proceeds
This satal curiosity in man?
And could this beauteous fabric of the world
From nothing be produced? or whence derives
That bright Existence, that eternal Pow'r,
Sole governor of all, his glorious being?
Stupendous truths! here human wisdom fails,
Lost in a labyrinth of endless thought.
Sure we existed in some other state
Before this world was form'd, and for our sins
Constrain'd to bear so great an ill as life. — —

How vain the pleasing thought, that happiness
Should e'er be found by man! within whose breast
So many passions rage, such fierce desires
Which by enjoyment aggravate our woes.

Here bold ambition with a tyrant's pride
Lays waste whole kingdoms; and with lawless might
Usurps dominion over vanquish'd slaves;
And stains his sword with guiltless nations blood.

There fell revenge, that poison to our rest,
Exerts her baleful pow'r; and for a deed,
Or rash unthinking word, to death pursues
O'er distant realms the object of her hate.

Here fate in ambush lies in beauty's smiles:
Our eager eyes indulge in wanton gaze,
Warm wishes, tender hopes, and soft desires;
Till lust extinguishes bright reason's flame,
Unnerves the soul, and prompts us to enjoy,
In spite of consequence, the charming fair
Against the laws of honour, virtue, fame;
And, for a moment's bliss, entails an age of woe.

That bubble happiness deludes our hopes,
Even when we seem to grasp the blessing sure,
And think our joys beyond the reach of fate:
Like a gay dream, where haughty beauty courts
Her lover long enamour'd of her charms;
But, when strong fancy winds the passion up
To thrilling raptures exquisite to sense,
He finds the fair one cheat his promis'd hopes,
And clasps a cloud within his fond embrace.
Man therefore of necessity is wretched:
And who that's wretched would desire to live? —
Avaunt such gloomy thoughts! — Shall blooming youth,
In melancholy mood, like drooping age
In contemplation pine of future ills?
No; — — let the gay remembrance of delight
Inspire a grateful thought for pleasure past!
Recall the fleeting hours, when Lydia fair
With her enchanting converse rais'd the soul
To more than mortal bliss! when jovial friends
With wit and humour made the longest night
Seem shorter than a transitory dream.
Nor mourn my present lot, in Aukland grove,
Remote from all the gallant scenes of youth;
Which bless'd my better days: in calm retreat
Curs'd with no mean dependance, still above
The smiles or frowns of fortune: gay content
Can form a purer happiness within,
Than the vain pomp and pageantry of life.