Classic Poem

So here confined, and but to female clay,
Ardelia's soul mistook the rightful way:
Whilst the soft breeze of pleasure's tempting air
Made her believe felicity was there,
And, basking in the warmth of early time,
To vain amusements dedicate her prime;
Ambition next allured her towering eye,
For Paradise, she heard, was placed on high,
Then thought, the Court with all its glorious show
Was sure above the rest, and Paradise below.
There placed, too soon the flaming sword appeared,
Removed those powers, whom justly she revered,
Adhered to in their wreck, and in their ruin shared.
Now by the wheel's inevitable round,
With them thrown prostrate to the humble ground,
No more she takes (instructed by that fall)
For fixed, or worth her thought, this rolling ball;
Towards a more certain station she aspires,
Unshaken by revolts, and owns no less desires.
But all in vain are prayers, ecstatic thoughts,
Recovered moments, and retracted faults.
Retirement, which the world moroseness calls,
Abandoned pleasures in monastic walls:
These, but at distance, towards that purpose tend,
The lowly means to an exalted end;
Which He must perfect who allots her stay,
And, that accomplished, will direct the way,
Pity her restless cares and weary strife,
And point some issue to escaping life;
Which so dismissed, no pen nor human speech
The ineffable recess can ever teach;
The expanse, the light, the harmony, the throng,
The bride's attendance, and the bridal song,
The numerous mansions, and the immortal tree,
No eye, unpurged by death, must ever see,
Or waves which through that wondrous city roll.
Rest then content, my too impatient soul!
Observe but here the easy precepts given,
Then wait with cheerful hope till heaven be known in heaven.