. The English dance of death, from the designs of Thomas Rowlandson;. rd.;Tis Fate commands, and I with pride,Embrace Miss Mustard as my well-appointed hearse-and-fourAttends her pleasure at the door. ENGLISH DANCE OF DEATH 73 The marriage ceremonies waitHer presence at the Church-yard gate :My Lanthern shines with nuptial light;The bells in muffled peal, invite,—And She, shall be,—a Bride to Night? 74 ENGLISH DANCE OF DEATH THE QUACK DOCTOR What is the choicest boon of Heaven,That to frail mortal man is given;To cheer his heart and gild his wayThrough passing Lifes uncertain day ? Amb
. The English dance of death, from the designs of Thomas Rowlandson;. rd.;Tis Fate commands, and I with pride,Embrace Miss Mustard as my well-appointed hearse-and-fourAttends her pleasure at the door. ENGLISH DANCE OF DEATH 73 The marriage ceremonies waitHer presence at the Church-yard gate :My Lanthern shines with nuptial light;The bells in muffled peal, invite,—And She, shall be,—a Bride to Night? 74 ENGLISH DANCE OF DEATH THE QUACK DOCTOR What is the choicest boon of Heaven,That to frail mortal man is given;To cheer his heart and gild his wayThrough passing Lifes uncertain day ? Ambition will at once exclaim,Raise me to station and to name:Give me Power and give me State,Content I 11 leave the rest to Avarice, with grasping hand,Will quick reply,—let me commandThe fountain from whence riches flow:No other joy I seek to know. Call forth the minstrels, let them playThe enchanting music through the day;Let but the sensual spirits waitAnd ask admittance at my gate;Let but the feast prolong delight,And give a blaze to gloomy night:. ENGLISH DANCE OF DEATH 75 Thus let me live till life is oer,Pleasure proclaims,—I ask no more. How vain, how impotent the planThat oft is formd by thoughtless man,His transient, fickle hours to bless,With a false dream of happiness !—If pain assaults the splendid throne,Does not the scepterd Monarch groan ?If raging Fevers burning heatCompels the hurried pulse to beat;If the cold Ague shakes the frame,And shuddring Limbs its force proclaim;—If the tormented bosom strainsWith Hectics agitating pains;—In short, whatever the disease,—Will power, will riches give us ease ?While Pleasure, trembling with affright,From the sick chamber takes its flight. What thens the choicest boon of Heaven,Which to frail, mortal man is given,To cheer his heart and gild his wayThrough passing Lifes uncertain day;Superior far to power and wealth ?The answer is at hand ;—Tis Health. 76 ENGLISH DANCE OF DEATH O Nymph divine, with
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