Soliloquy

Ah, where alas! is man's pre-eminence, This mass of error with a boast of sense; A something, nothing, ere his frame began, Who cannot see thro' life one future plan. Fatal knowledge, never wiser growing, Than himself, an ignoramus knowing. What his being, or why so long sustain'd, From youth to age, in so much error train'd. For some great end was form'd the vast design, Which still sets value on this life of thine; Let Plato reason, all these wise men err, Fell suicide must heav'n's just wrath incur. There is a path to tread, for all men made, Where God is truly serv'd, and man repaid; Whose great ascent to blissful heights shall rise, Where all false reas'ning like a phantom flies— Cease wond'ring then, let thy researches fall, To know was wrong, or thou hadst known it all.