In _Mortal Fetters_ and a _Slavish Chain_?
_Death_ only can the _Gordian Knot_ divide, }
Tho by what secret wondrous _Bands_ 'tis ty'd, }
Ev'n _Reason's_ self must own she can't decide: }
For as the _rapid Tides_ of _Matter_ turn }
We're fann'd with _Pleasure_ or with _Anger_ burn, }
We _Love_ and _Hate_ again, we _Joy_ and _Mourn_. }
Now the swift _Torrent_ high and headstrong grows,
_Shoots_ through the Dykes, and all the Banks _o'erflows_;
Strait the _capricious Waters_ backward fly,
The _Pebbles_ rake and leave the Bottom _dry_; 390
Watch the _kind Hour_ and seize the _rising Flood_,
Else will your _dreggy Poem_ taste of _Mud_.
Hence old and batter'd _Hackneys_ of the _Stage_,
By long Experience render'd _Wise_ and _Sage_,
With pow'rful _Juices_ restive Nature urge,
Or else with _Bays_ of old, they _bleed_ and _purge_;
Thence, as the _Priestess_ from her _Cave_ inspir'd,
When to his _Cell_ the _rancid God_ retir'd,
_Double Entendres_ their fond _Audience_ blind,
Their _boasted Oracles_ abuse Mankind: 400
_False Joys_ around their _Hearts_ in _Slumbers_ play,
And the warm _tingling Blood_ steals fast away;
The _Soul_ grows _dizzy_, lost in _Senses Night_,
And melts in pleasing _Pain_ and vain _Delight_.
Not that the _sowrest Critick_ can reprove
The _soft_ the moving _Scenes_ of _Virtuous Love_:
_Life's Sunny Morn_, which wears, alas! too fast;
_Pity_ it e'er should _hurt_, or should not _always last_!
Has _Bankrupt Nature_ then no _more_ to give,