Page:Lewesdon Hill, a poem (IA lewesdonhillpoem00crowiala).pdf/15

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LEWESDON HILL.
5
Could I wear out this transitory beingIn peaceful contemplation and calm ease.But conscience, which still censures on our acts,That awful voice within us, and the senseOf an hereafter, wake and rouse us upFrom such unshaped retirement; which were elseA blest condition on this earthly stage.For who would make his life a life of toilFor wealth, o'erbalanced with a thousand cares;Or power, which base compliance must uphold;Or honour, lavish'd most on courtly slaves;Or fame, vain breath of a misjudging world;Who for such perishable gaudes would putA yoke upon his free unbroken spirit,And gall himself with trammels and the rubsOf this world's business; so he might stand clearOf judgment and the tax of idlenessIn that dread audit, when his mortal hours(Which now with soft and silent stealth pace by)Must all be counted for? But, for this fear,And to remove, according to our power,The wants and evils of our brother's state,

'Tis

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