The fame first Mover certain Bounds has plac'd,
How long those perishable Forms shall last;
Nor can they last beyond the Time affign'd
By that All-feeing, and All-making Mind:
Shorten their Hours they may; for Will is free;
But never pass th' appointed Destiny.
So Men opprefs'd, when weary of their Breath,
Throw off the Burden, and fubborn their Death.
Then fince thofe Forms begin, and have their End,
On some unalter'd Cause they sure depend:
Parts of the Whole are we; but God the Whole;
Who gives us Life, and animating Soul.
For Nature cannot from a Part derive
That Being, which the Whole can only give:
He perfect, stable; but imperfect wè,
Subject to Change, and diff'rent in Degree.
Plants, Beafts, and Man; and as our Organs are,
We more or lefs of his Perfection fhare.
But by a long Defcent, th'Etherial Fire
Corrupts ; and Forms, the mortal Part, expire:
As he withdraws his Virtue, fo they pass,
And the fame Matter makes another Mafs :
This Law th’Omniscient Pow'r was pleas'd to give,
That ev'ry Kind should by Succeffion live:
That Individuals die, his Will ordains;
The propagated Species ftill remains.
The Monarch-Oak, the Patriarch of the Trees,'
Shoots rifing up, and spreads by flow Degrees:
Three Centuries he grows, and three he stays,
Supreme in State; and in three more decays:
So wears the paving Pebble in the Street,
And Towns and Tow'rs their fatal Periods meet,
So Rivers, rapid once, now naked lye,
[dry.
Forfaken of their Springs ; and leave their Channels
So Man, at first a Drop, dilates with Heat,
Then form'd, the little Heart begins to beat;
Secret he feeds, unknowing in the Cell;
At length, for hatching ripe, he breaks the Shell,
And struggles into Breath, and cries for Aid;
Then, helpless, in his Mother's Lap is laid.
He creeps, he walks, and iffuing into Man,
Grudges their Life, from whence his own began.
Retchlefs of Laws, affects to rule alone,
Anxious to reign, and restless on the Throne:
First vegetive, then feels, and reasons laft;
Rich of Three Souls, and lives all three to waste.
Some thus; but thousands more in Flow'r of Age:
For few arrive to run the latter Stage.
Sunk in the first, in Battel fome are flain,
And others whelm'd beneath the stormy Main.
What makes all this, but Jupiter the King,
At whofe Command we perish, and we fpring?
Then 'tis our beft, fince thus ordain'd to die,
To make a Virtue of Neceffity.
Take what he gives, fince to rebel is vain ;
The bad grows better, which we well sustain:
And cou'd we chufe the Time, and chuse aright,
'Tis best to die, our Honour at the height.
When we have done our Ancestors no Shame,
But ferv'd our Friends, and well fecur'd our Fame;
Then fhould we wish our happy Life to close,
And leave no more for Fortune to dispose:
So fhould we make our Death a glad Relief,
From futureShame, from Sickness,and from Grief:
Enjoying while we live the present Hour,
And dying in our Excellence, and Flow'r.
Then round our Death-bed ev'ry Friend fhou'd run,
And joy us of our Conqueft, early wond
While the malicious World with envious Tears
Shou'd grudge our happy End, and with it theirs.
Since then our Arcite is with Honour dead,
Why thou'd we mourn, that he fo foon is freed,
Or call untimely, what the Gods decreed?
With Grief as juft, a Friend may be deplor'd,
From a foul Prifon to free Air restor'd.
Ought he to thank his Kinsman, or his Wife,
Cou'd Tears recall him into wretched Life!
Their Sorrow hurts themselves; on him is loft ;
And worse than both, offends his happy Ghoft.
What then remains, but after past Annoy,
To take the good Viciffitude of Joy?
To thank the gracious Gods for what they give,
Poffefs our Souls, and while we live, to live?
Ordain we then two Sorrows to combine,
And in one point th' Extremes of Grief to join;
That thence refulting Joy may be renew'd,
As jarring Notes in Harmony conclude.
Then I propofe, that Palamon shall be
In Marriage join'd with beauteous Emily;
For which already I have gain'd th' Assent
Of my free People in full Parliament:
Long Love to her has born the faithful Knight, And well deferv'd, had Fortune done him Right: 'Tis time to mend her Fault; fince Emily
By Arcite's Death from former Vows is free:
If you, Fair Sifter, ratifie th' Accord,
And take him for your Husband, and your Lord,
'Tis no Dishonour to confer your Grace
On one defcended from a Royal Race:
And were he lefs, yet Years of Service past
From grateful Souls exact Reward at last:
Pity is Heav'ns and yours: Nor can she find
A Throne fo foft as in a Woman's Mind.
He said; she blush'd; and as o'eraw'd by Might,
Seem'd to give Thefeus, what she gave the Knight.
Then turning to the Theban, thus he said;
Small Arguments are needful to perfuade
Your Temper to comply with
my Command; And speaking thus, he gave Emilia's Hand. Smil'd Venus, to behold her own true Knight? Obtain the Conqueft, though he lost the Fight, And blefs'd with Nuptial Bliss the sweet laborious Night. I
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