Classic Poem

IMITATED .

Studious the busy moments to deceive,
That fleet between the cradle and the grave,
I credit what the Grecian dictates say,
And Samian sounds o'er Scotia's hills convey,
When mortal man resigns his transient breath,
The body only I give o'er to death;
The parts dissolv'd and broken frame I mourn:
What came from earth I see to earth return.
The immaterial part, the ethereal soul,
Nor can change vanquish, nor can death control.
Glad I release it from its partner's cares,
And bid good angels waft it to the stars.
Then in the flowing bowl I drown those sighs,
Which, spite of wisdom, from our weakness rise.
The draught to the dead's memory I commend,
And offer to the now immortal friend.
But if oppos'd to what my thoughts approve,
Nor Pluto's rage there be, nor power of Jove;
On its dark side if thou the prospect take;
Grant all forgot beyond black Lethe's lake:
In total death suppose the mortal lie,
No new hereafter, nor a future sky:
Yet bear thy lot content! yet cease to grieve:
Why, ere death comes, dost thou forbear to live?
The little time thou hast, 'twixt instant now
And fate's approach, is all the gods allow:
And of this little hast thou aught to spare
To sad reflection, and corroding care?
The moments past, if thou art wise, retrieve
With pleasant memory of the bliss they gave.
The present hours in present mirth employ,
And bribe the future with the hopes of joy:
The future (few or more, howe'er they be)
Were destin'd erst; nor can by fate's decree
Be now cut off, betwixt the grave and thee.