A burden more than I can bear, I fet me down and figh: O Life! Thou art a galling load, Along a rough, a weary road, To wretches fuch as I! Dim-backward as I caft my view, What fick'ning Scenes appear! What Sorrows yet may pierce me thro', Too juftly I may fear! Still caring, despairing, Muft be my bitter doom; My woes here, fhall close ne'er, II. Happy! ye fons of Busy-life, Ev'n when the wifhed end's deny'd, Meet ev'ry fad-returning night, And joyless morn the same. You, bustling and justling, Forget each grief and pain; I, listless, yet restless, Find ev'ry prospect vain. III. How bleft the Solitary's lot, Who, all-forgetting, all-forgot, Within his humble cell, The cavern wild with tangling roots, Or haply, to his ev'ning thought, The ways of men are diftant brought, A faint-collected dream: While praifing, and raising His thoughts to Heaven on high, As wand'ring, meand'ring, He views the folemn sky. IV. Than I, no lonely Hermit plac'd Where never human footstep trac'd, Lefs fit to play the part, The lucky moment to improve, And just to stop, and just to move, With felf-respecting art: But ah! those pleasures, Loves and Joys, Which I too keenly taste, Can want, and yet be bleft! At perfidy ingrate! V. Oh, enviable, early days, When dancing thoughtless Pleasure's maze, To Care, to Guilt unknown! How ill exchang'd for riper times, To feel the follies, or the crimes, Of others, or my own! Ye little know the ills ye court, The loffes, the croffes, That active man engage; Of dim declining Age! |