And can it be, Lord of the Sea and Earth, Off-spring of Heaven, that to thy State and Birth Things so incompatible should be joyn'd, Passions should thee confound, to Heaven assign'd? Passions that do the Soul unguarded lay, And to the strokes of Fortune ope' a way. Were't not that these thy Force did from thee take, How bold, how brave Resistance would'st thou make? Defie the Strength and Malice of thy Foes, Unmoved stand the Worlds United Blows? For what is't, Man, unto thy Better Part, That thou or Sick, or Poor, or Captive art? Since no Material Stroke the Soul can feel, The smart of Fire, or yet the Edge of Steel. As little can it Worldly Joys partake, Though it the Body does its Agent make, And joyntly with it Servile Labour bear, For Things, alas, in which it cannot share. Surveigh the Land and Sea by Heavens embrac't, Thou'lt find no sweet th'Immortal Soul can tast: Why dost thou then, O Man! thy self torment Good here to gain, or Evils to prevent? Who only Miserable or Happy art, As thou neglects, or wisely act'st thy Part. For shame then rouse thy self as from a Sleep, The long neglected Reins let Reason keep, The Charret mount, and use both Lash and Bit, Nobly resolve, and thou wilt firmly sit: Fierce Anger, boggling Fear, Pride prauncing still, Bounds-hating Hope, Desire which nought can fill, Are stubborn all, but thou may'st give them Law; Th'are hard-Mouth'd Horses, but they well can draw. Lash on, and the well govern'd Charret drive, Till thou a Victor at the Goal arrive, Where the free Soul does all her burden leave, And Joys commensurate to her self receive. _Upon the saying that my_ VERSES _were made by another_. Next Heaven my Vows to thee (O Sacred _Muse_!) I offer'd up, nor didst thou them refuse. O Queen of Verse, said I, if thou'lt inspire, And warm my Soul with thy Poetique Fire, No Love of Gold shall share with thee my Heart, Or yet Ambition in my Brest have Part, More Rich, more Noble I will ever hold The _Muses_ Laurel, than a Crown of Gold. An Undivided Sacrifice I'le lay Upon thine Altar, Soul and Body pay; Thou shalt my Pleasure, my Employment be, My All I'le make a Holocaust to thee.