So the gall’d lion, ſmarting with his wound,
Threatens his foes, and makes the ſoreſt ſound;115
With his ſtrong teeth he bites the bloody dart,
And tears his ſide with more provoking ſmart,
Till, having ſpent his voice in fruitleſs cries,
He lays him down, breaks his proud heart, and dies.121
MEDITATION ON DEATH.
I.
Enough, enough, my Soul! of worldly noiſe,
Os aëry pomps and fleeting joys.
What does this buſy world provide at beſt
But brittle goods that break like glaſs;
But poiſon’d sweets, a troubled feaſt,5
And pleaſures like the winds, that in a moment paſs?
Thy thoughts to nobler meditations give,
And ſtudy how to die, not how to live.
II.
How frail is beauty! ah! how vain,
And how ſhort-liv’d, those glories are10
That vex our nights and days with pain,
And break our hearts with care!
In duſt we no diſtinction ſee:
Such Helen is, ſuch, Mira! thou must be.
III.
How ſhort is life! why will vain courtiers toil,15
And crowd a vainer monarch for a ſmile?
