With toilsome steps I pass thro' life's dull road br (No pack-horse half so tired of his load); br And when this dirty journey will conclude, br To what new realms is then my way pursued? br Say, then does the unbodied spirit fly br To happier climes and to a better sky? br Or, sinking, mixes with its kindred clay, br And sleeps a whole eternity away? br Or shall this form be once again renew'd, br With all its frailties, all its hopes, endu'd; br Acting once more on this detested stage br Passions of youth, infirmities of age? br I see in Tully what the ancients thought, br And read unprejudic'd what moderns taught; br But no conviction from my reading springs -- br Most dubious on the most important things. br Yet one short moment would at once explain br What all philosophy has sought in vain; br Would clear all doubt, and terminate all pain.