The Mystery of Life. I. SO many Years I've seen the Sun, And call'd these Eyes and Hands my own, A thousand little Acts I've done And Childhood have and Manhood known: O what is Life! and this dull Round To tread, why was a Spirit bound? II. So many airy Draughts and Lines, And warm Excursions of the Mind, Have fill'd my Soul with great Designs, While Practice grovel'd far behind: O what is Thought! and where withdraw The Glories which my Fancy saw? III. So many tender Joys and Woes Have on my quiv'ring Soul had Pow'r; Plain Life with height'ning Passions rose, The Boast or Burden of their Hour: O what is All we feel! why fled Those Pains and Pleasures o'er my Head? IV. So many human Souls Divine, Some at one Interview display'd, Some oft and freely mixt with mine, In lasting Bonds my Heart have laid: O what is Friendship! why imprest On my weak, wretched, dying Breast? V. So many wondrous Gleams of Light, And gentle Ardors from above, Have made me sit, like Seraph bright, Some Moments on a Throne of Love: O what is Virtue! why had I, Who am so low, a Taste so high? VI. Ere long, when Sov'reign Wisdom wills, My Soul an unknown Path shall tread, And strangely leave, who strangely fills This Frame, and waft me to the Dead: O what is Death? — 'tis Life's last Shore, Where Vanities are vain no more; Where all Pursuits their Goal obtain, And Life is all retouch'd again; Where in their bright Result shall rise Thoughts, Virtues, Friendships, Griefs and Joys.