A FIT OF THE SPLEEN. In Imitation of SHAKSPEARE

Farewell, vain world! and thou its vainest part, O lovely woman! fram'd for man's destruction! Beauty, like nightshade to the teeming wife, If seen, gives wishes restless, endless longings; If tasted, death. Too hard decree of fate, That life must be a burthen, or must end!

Farewel, vain world! dwelling of ills and fears, Full of fond hopes, false joys, and sad repentance; For though sometimes warm fancy lights a fire, That mounting upwards darts its pointed head Up, through the unopposing air, to heav'n; Yet then comes Thought, and cold Consideration, Lame Afterthought with endless scruples fraught, Benumb'd with Fears, to damp the goodly blaze.

Farewel, vain world!—Yet, ere I die, I'll find Contentment's seat, unknown to guilt or sorrow; Haste then, for nimble Death pursues me close, Methinks I hear his steps, though trod in air; My fluttering soul seems like a bird entrapp'd, That beats his wings against the prison walls, And fain would be at liberty again; And oft the death-watch with ill-boding beats Hath warn'd me that my time would soon expire, And that life's thread, ne'er to be wound up more, Would by the spring of fate be quickly drawn To its full stretch—Haste then, and let me find A shelter, that may shut out noise and light, Save one dim taper, whose neglected snuff, Grown higher than the flame, shall with its bulk Almost extinguish it; no noise be there, But that of water, ever friend to thought.

Hail, gloomy shade! th' abode of modesty Void of deceit; no glittering objects here Dazzle the eyes; and thou, delightful Silence, Silence, the great Divinity's discourse! The angels' language, and the hermits' pride, The help of waking wisdom, and its food; In thee philosophers have justly plac'd The sovereign good; free from the broken vows, The calumnies, reproaches, and the lies Of which the noisy babbling world complains.

So the struck deer, with some deep wound opprest, Lies down to die, the arrow in his breast; There hid in shades, and wasting day by day, Inly he bleeds, and pants his life away.