Nor wish, nor fondly seek to know
What Fate denies to human Kind:
Misfortunes more severe wou'd grow,
If what we follow we should find.
That Origin of being curst,
Does with the Sex's Frailty suit:
And wretched Man was ruin'd first
When Woman pull'd the tempting Fruit.
How rashly she for Knowledge sought?
The fatal Error chains us still,
How dear our gen'ral Mother bought
The Knowledge of her certain Ill!
In Grace to us has Heav'ns Decree
Conceal'd from Sight Events to come:
While, by our vain Inquiries, we
Anticipate the dreaded Doom.
If silent Campbell cou'd to View
The future Scenes of Time unfold;
Were his prophetic Fables true,
As Delphian Oracles of old:
By mystic Arts and impious Spells,
In vain, alas! wou'd you explore,
What Fate retains in gloomy Cells;
What Love and Life have yet in Store.
Our Disappointment gives us Pain,
If 'tis impossible to know.
But what does their Discov'ry gain,
Who feel the Wound before the Blow?
Misfortune, Pain, and Death at last
'Tis certain all must undergo:
Why shou'd we singly long to taste,
The dire Ingredients of our Woe?