Classic Poem

With toilsome steps I pass through Life's dull Road,
No Pack Horse halfe so weary of his Load;
And when this dirty Journey will conclude,
To what new Realms is then my Way persu'd?
Say; then does the unbody'd Spirit fly,
To happier climes and to a better Sky;
Or sinking, mixes with its kindred clay,
And sleeps a whole Eternity away?
Or shall this Form be once again renew'd,
With all its Frailties, and its Hopes endu'd;
Acting once more on this detested Stage,
Passions of Youth, Infirmities of Age?
I see in Tully what the Ancients thought
And read unprejudiced what moderns taught
But no Conviction from my reading springs,
Most dubious, on the most important things.
Yet one short moment would at once explain,
What all Philosophy has sought in vain,
Would clear all doubt, and terminate all pain.
Why then not hasten that decisive Hour,
Still in my view, and ever in my power?
Why should I drag along this Life I hate
Without one thought to mitigate the weight?
Whence this misterious bearing to exist,
When every Joy is lost, and every Hope dismist?
In chains and darkness wherefore should I stay
And mourn in Prison while I keep the Key?