Life and Existence

Here closed in death th’ attentive eyes That saw the manners in the face.

How small, of all that human hearts endure, That part which laws or kings can cause or cure! Still to ourselves in every place consign’d, Our own felicity we make or find.

Must helpless man, in ignorance sedate, Roll darkling down the torrent of his fate?

Must helpless man, in ignorance sedate, Roll darkling down the torrent of his fate?

“Enlarge my life with multitude of days!” In health, in sickness, thus the suppliant prays: Hides from himself his state, and shuns to know That life protracted is protracted woe.

He left the name at which the world grew pale, To point a moral, or adorn a tale.

He left the name at which the world grew pale, To point a moral, or adorn a tale.

The wild vicissitudes of taste.

Work as if you were to live a hundred years, Pray as if you were to die tomorrow.

If you would not be forgotten, As soon as you are dead and rotten, Either write things worthy reading, Or do things worth the writing.

Who has not the spirit of his age, Of his age has all the unhappiness. 12

Who has not the spirit of his age, Of his age has all the unhappiness. 12

And binding Nature fast in fate, Left free the human will.

And binding Nature fast in fate, Left free the human will.

Vain was the chief’s, the sage’s pride! They had no poet, and they died. 7

Father of all! in every age, In every clime ador’d, By saint, by savage, and by sage, Jehovah, Jove, or Lord!

Not to go back is somewhat to advance, And men must walk, at least, before they dance.

Not to go back is somewhat to advance, And men must walk, at least, before they dance.

As yet a child, nor yet a fool to fame, I lisp’d in numbers, for the numbers came.

Slave to no sect, who takes no private road, But looks through Nature up to Nature’s God.

Behold the child, by Nature’s kindly law, Pleas’d with a rattle, tickled with a straw: Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight, A little louder, but as empty quite: Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage, And beads and prayer books are the toys of age! Pleas’d with this bauble still, as that before; Till tir’d he sleeps, and life’s poor play is o’er.

Behold the child, by Nature’s kindly law, Pleas’d with a rattle, tickled with a straw: Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight, A little louder, but as empty quite: Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage, And beads and prayer books are the toys of age! Pleas’d with this bauble still, as that before; Till tir’d he sleeps, and life’s poor play is o’er.

Behold the child, by Nature’s kindly law, Pleas’d with a rattle, tickled with a straw: Some livelier plaything gives his youth delight, A little louder, but as empty quite: Scarfs, garters, gold, amuse his riper stage, And beads and prayer books are the toys of age! Pleas’d with this bauble still, as that before; Till tir’d he sleeps, and life’s poor play is o’er.

All nature is but art, unknown to thee; All chance, direction which thou canst not see; All discord, harmony not understood; All partial evil, universal good; And, spite of pride, in erring reason’s spite, One truth is clear, Whatever is, is right.