Death

Reflect that life and death, affecting sounds! Are only varied modes of endless being: Reflect that life, like ev'ry other blessing, Derives its value from its use alone: Not for itself,—but for a nobler end, Th' Eternal gave it, and that end is virtue! When inconsistent with a greater good, Reason commands to cast the less away: Thus life, with loss of wealth, is well preserv'd, And virtue cheaply sav'd with loss of life.

Nothing more certain than to die, but when Is most uncertain: if so, every hour We should prepare us for the journey, which Is not to be put off. I must submit To the divine decree, not argue it, And chearfully welcome it.

Now death draws near, a strange perplexity Creeps coldly on me, like a fear to die. Courage uncertain dangers may abate, But who can bear th' approach of certain fate? The wisest and the best some fear may show, And wish to stay, tho' they resolve to go. As some saint pilgrim standing on the shore, First views the torrent he would venture o'er, And then his inn upon the farther ground, Loth to wade thro', and lother to go round; Then dipping in his staff, does trial make How deep it is, and sighing pulls it back; Sometimes resolv'd to fetch his leap, and then Runs to the bank, but there stops short again: So I at once Both heavenly faith and human fear obey, And feel before me in an unknown way.

This vast, this solid earth, that blazing sun, Those skies thro' which it rolls, must all have end. What then is man, the smallest part of nothing? Day buries day, month month, and year the year; Our life is but a chain of many deaths: Can then death's self be fear'd? our life much rather: Life is the desart, life the solitude; Death joins us to the majority; 'Tis to be born to Platos and Timoleons, 'Tis to be great for ever! 'Tis pleasure, 'tis ambition then to die.