Page:The Works of the Rev. Jonathan Swift, Volume 7.djvu/346

334 Nor think on our approaching ills, And talk of spectacles and pills; To morrow will be time enough To hear such mortifying stuff. Yet, since from reason may be brought A better and more pleasing thought, Which can, in spite of all decays, Support a few remaining days; From not the gravest of divines Accept for once some serious lines. Although we now can form no more Long schemes of life, as heretofore; Yet you, while time is running fast, Can look with joy on what is past. Were future happiness and pain A mere contrivance of the brain; As atheists argue, to entice And fit their proselytes for vice; (The only comfort they propose, To have companions in their woes) Grant this the case; yet sure 'tis hard That virtue, styl'd its own reward, And by all sages understood To be the chief of human good, Should acting die; nor leave behind Some lasting pleasure in the mind, Which, by remembrance, will asswage Grief, sickness, poverty, and age; And strongly shoot a radiant dart To shine through life's declining part. Say, Stella, feel you no content, Reflecting on a life well spent? Your skilful hand employ'd to save Despairing wretches from the grave; Rh