EPISTLE, TO J. K**G. On receiving a Moral
Epistle from him. May 1802. __ PLEASE accept the thanks and
praise, Due to your Poetic lays, Wisdom ay should be rever’d, Sense to wit be ay prefer’d. --Just your
thoughts, in simple guise, Fir to make frail mortals wise, Every period, every line, With some moral truth doth
shine. --Like
the rocks, which storms divide, Thund’ring down the mountain’s
side, So strides time with rapid force, Round his unobstructed course; Like a flood upon its way, Sweeping downward to the sea: But what figure so sublime As describe the flight of time? Yesterday is past an’ gane, Just as it had never
been. --Life’s
a dream, and man’s a bubble, ’Compassed round with care and
trouble, Like a ship in tempest tost, Soon o’erwhelmed, forever lost, Like the short-liv’d
passion-flow’r, Blooming, dying, in an hour, Like the tuneful bird that
sings, Flutt’ring high on sportive
wings, Till the fowler’s subtle art, Drives death’s message to its heart, While, perhaps death aims his blow, For to lay the wretch as low. --Now
since life is but a day, Make the most of it we may; Not in drinking to excess, Drink the spirits will depress: Calm and tranquil let us be, Still resign’d to fate’s
decree: Let not poortith sink us low, Let not wealth exalt our brow, Let’s be grateful, virtuous, wise; There’s where all our greatness
lies, Doing all the good we can, Is all that heaven
requires of man. --Wherefore
should we grieve and sigh, ’Cause we know that we must
die? Death’s a debt requir’d by nature, To be paid by every creature, Rich and poor, and high and
low, Fall by death’s impartial blow-- God perhaps in kindness will Snatch us from some coming ill; Death may kindly waft us o'er To a milder, happier
shore. --But,
Dear Jamie! after
a’, What I’ve said’s not worth a
straw; What is’t worth to moralize What we never can practise? As for me, wi’
a’ my skill, Passion leads me as she will: Best resolves, laid down to-day, Ere to-morrow,
’re done away-- --Then,
let’s ever-cheery live, Do our best, an’ never grieve; Still let Friendship’s warmest
tie A’ deficiencies supply, And, while favour’d by the Nine, I your laurels will entwine. |