Page:Lewesdon Hill, a poem (IA lewesdonhillpoem00crowiala).pdf/19

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LEWESDON HILL.
9
Who know our frame and fashion, who can tellThe substance and the properties of man,As they had seen him made; aye and stood bySpies on Heaven's work. They also can discourseWisely, to prove that what must be must be,And shew how thoughts are jogg'd out of the brainBy a mechanical impulse; pushing onThe minds of us, poor unaccountables,To fatal resolution. Know they not,That in this mortal life, whate'er it be,We take the path that leads to good or evil,And therein find our bliss or misery?And this includes all reasonable endsOf knowledge or of being; farther to goIs toil unprofitable, and th' effectMost perilous wandering. Yet of this be sure;Where Freedom is not, there no Virtue is:If there be none, this world is all a cheat,And the divine stability of Heaven(That assured seat for good men after death)Is but a transient cloud; display'd so fairTo cherish virtuous hope, but at our need

Eludes

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