Classic Poem

O Form'd for boundless Bliss! Immortal Soul,
Why dost thou prompt the melancholy Sigh
While Evening Shades disclose the glowing Pole,
And Silver Moon Beams tremble o'er the Sky.

These glowing Stars shall fade, this Moon shall fall,
This transitory Sky shall melt away,
Whilst thou triumphantly surviving all
Shalt glad expatiate in eternal Day.

Sickens the Mind with Longings vainly great,
To trace mysterious Wisdom's secret Ways,
While chain'd and bound in this ignoble State,
Humbly it breathes sincere, imperfect Praise?

Or glows the beating Heart with sacred Fires,
And longs to mingle in the Worlds of Love?
Or, foolish Trembler, feeds its fond Desires
Of earthly Good? or dreads Life's Ills to prove?

Back does it trace the Flight of former Years,
The Friends lamented, and the Pleasures past?
Or wing'd with Forecast vain, and impious Fears,
Presumptuous to the Cloud-hid Future haste?

Hence, far be gone, ye Fancy folded Pains,
Peace, trembling Heart, be ev'ry Sigh supprest:
Wisdom supreme, eternal Goodness reigns,
Thus far is sure: to Heav'n resign the rest.