Let death, let banishment, and ev'ry ill,
Which mortals thoughts with apprehension fill,
Which most they dread, and with aversion fly,
Be always present to thy thoughts and eye;
But chiefly death: thus no mean thought shall find
Harbour, or entertainment in thy mind.
Thus no base fear shall ever from thee wrest
The firm resolves or thy undaunted breast:
Not tyrants frowns, nor tortures shall enslave
Thy fearless soul, but, generously brave,
Thou all their little malice may'st defy:
Arm'd only with this thought, Thou once must die.
Nor can death truly formidable seem
To thee, who with it hast familiar been,
Who ev'ry day hast the pale bug-bear seen.
Yet death's the worst that thou can'st undergo,
The utmost limit, the last scene of woe,
The greatest spite thy enemy can show;
And yet no more, than what the gout, or stone,
With more malicious leisure, might have done.
Arm'd with the thoughts of death, no fond desire
Of wealth, nor the deluding foolish desire
Of pow'r, shall lead thee on with hopes to gain,
What death hath sworn thou shalt not long retain.