The Fatality. Come all ye grand Predestinarians now, Your Doctrine to the Height I will allow: I who with utmost Force resist my Fate, But am to Ills alone predestinate; In vain I strive th' immutable Decree, Has pass'd on my unlucky Destiny. With Sighs and Tears I did at first begin, To conquer Fate as others would their Sin; Each Path I trod I went with Caution on, But every Step doth lead to be undone: And when a threatening Storm was in my View, I from it (wisely as I thought) withdrew; But whilst the approaching Ills with Fear I shun, Into some other certain Harms I run; So when some mighty Grief did press my Soul, I would th' uneasy Tyranny controul; (Like a distracted Man that will not bear, Those Fetters which Discretion makes him wear; But frets and raves, and breaks the friendly Chain, Which did from greater Injuries restrain; He'll not be bar'd a dangerous Liberty, Tho' he to Outrages and Mischief fly.) Thus I from one Misfortune force my Way, By Means that does to greater still betray; One Sorrow seldom attends long on me, I have a torturing Variety, I change and change, yet still 'tis Misery. A Hydra Fate my Ruin does pursue, Cut off one ill, strait, there springs up a new, And they'll arise ad infinitum too. Ther's none the mystick Scrolls of Fate can read, Nor shun the Ills by mighty Powers decreed, Hood-wink'd by them, just as they guide we tread. In vain we say we this or that will do, It cannot be unless they'll have it so; The only Way to ease our Discontents, Is to conclude they must be such Events; Such as the mighty hidden source of Things, Bubbles from it's inevitable Springs.