Classic Poem

Yet, here thy Courage taught thee to out-brave
All the slight Horrors of the Grave:
Pale Death's Arrest
Ne'er shock'd thy Breast;
Nor could it in the dreadfulst Figure drest.
That ugly Skeleton may guilty Spirits daunt,
When the dire Ghosts of Crimes departed haunt,
Arm'd with bold Innocence thou couldst that Mormo dare,
And on the bare-fac'd King of Terrors stare,
As free from all Effects as from the Cause of Fear.
Thy Soul so willing from thy Body went,
As if both parted by Consent.
No Murmur, no Complaining, no Delay,
Only a Sigh, a Groan, and so away.
Death seem'd to glide with Pleasure in,
As if in this Sense too 't had lost her Sting.
Like some well-acted Comedy Life swiftly past,
And ended just so still and sweet at last.
Thou, like its Actors, seem'dst in borrow'd Habit here beneath,
And couldst, as easily
As they do that, put off Mortality.
Thou breathedst out thy Soul as free as common Breath,
As unconcern'd as they are in a feigned Death.