That from the womb, we take our fatal ſhares,
Of follies, faſhions, labours, tumults, cares;
And at approach of death ſhall only know,
The truths which from theſe penſive numbers flow,
That we purſue falſe joy, and ſuffer real woe.
After an enquiry into, and an excellent deſcription of the various operations, and effects of nature, the ſyſtem of the heavens, &c. and not being fully informed of them, the firſt Book concludes,
How narrow limits were to wiſdom given?
Earth ſhe ſurveys; ſhe thence would meaſure Heav’n:
Thro’ miſts obſcure, now wings her tedious way;
Now wanders dazl’d, with too bright a day;
And from the ſummit of a pathleſs coaſt
Sees infinite, and in that ſight is loſt.
In the ſecond Book the uncertainty, diſappointment, and vexation attending pleaſure in general, are admirably deſcribed; and in the character of Solomon is ſufficiently ſhewn, that nothing debaſes majeſty, or indeed any man, more than ungovernable paſſion.
When thus the gathering ſtorms of wretched love
In my ſwoln boſom, with long war had ſtrove;
At length they broke their bounds; at length their force
Bore down whatever met its ſtronger courſe:
Laid all the civil bounds of manhood waſte,
And ſcatter’d ruin, as the torrent paſt.
The third Book treats particularly of the trouble and inſtability of greatneſs and power, conſi-
