IX.  How slowly Time creeps, till my_ Phebe return! 
          While amidst the soft Zephyr’s cold Breezes I burn;
          Methinks if I knew whereabouts he would tread,
          I could breathe on his Wings, and ’twould melt down the Lead. 
          Fly swifter, ye Minutes, bring hither my Dear,
          And rest so much longer for’t when she is here. 
          Ah Colin! old Time is full of Delay,
          Nor will budge one Foot faster for all thou canst say.

  X. Will no pitying Power that hears me complain,
          Or cure my Disquiet, or soften my Pain? 
          To be cur’d, thou must_, Colin, thy Passion remove;
          But what Swain is so silly to live without Love? 
          No, Deity, bid the dear Nymph to return,
          For ne’er was poor Shepherd so sadly forlorn. 
          Ah!  What shall I do?  I shall die with Despair;
          Take heed, all ye Swains, how ye love one so fair.

[Footnote 1:  It is said that John Byrom wrote these verses in honour of Joanna, daughter of his friend, Dr. Richard Bentley, Master of Trinity.]

* * * * *

No. 604.  Friday, October 8, 1714.

  ’Tu ne quaesieris (scire nefas) quem mihi, quem tibi,
  Finem Dii dederint, Leuconoe; nec Babylonios
  Tentaris numeros—­’

  Hor.

The Desire of knowing future Events is one of the strongest Inclinations in the Mind of Man.  Indeed an Ability of foreseeing probable Accidents is what, in the Language of Men, is called Wisdom and Prudence:  But, not satisfied with the Light that Reason holds out, Mankind hath endeavoured to penetrate more compendiously into Futurity.  Magick, Oracles, Omens, lucky Hours, and the various Arts of Superstition, owe their Rise to this powerful Cause.  As this Principle is founded in Self-Love, every Man is sure to be sollicitous in the first Place about his own Fortune, the Course of his Life, and the Time and Manner of his Death.

If we consider that we are free Agents, we shall discover the Absurdity of Enquiries.  One of our Actions, which we might have performed or neglected, is the Cause of another that succeeds it, and so the whole Chain of Life is link’d together.  Pain, Poverty, or Infamy, are the natural Product of vicious and imprudent Acts; as the contrary Blessings are of good ones; so that we cannot suppose our Lot to be determined without Impiety.  A great Enhancement of Pleasure arises from its being unexpected; and Pain is doubled by being foreseen.  Upon all these, and several other Accounts, we ought to rest satisfied in this Portion bestowed on us; to adore the Hand that hath fitted every Thing to our Nature, and hath not more display’d his Goodness in our Knowledge than in our Ignorance.