Combe, William (1742 -1823)

The Suicide [from The English Dance of Death, from the designs of Thomas Rowlandson, with metrical illustrations, by the author of "Doctor Syntax"]

London

Printed by J. Diggens ... Published at R. Ackermann's Repository of Arts [etc.]

1815

"Is Man to say--I've reach'd the goal, / I'll now dismiss th'imprison'd soul; / With my own hand I'll ope the way / From its base tenement of clay."

Philosophy, in all its Pride,
Cannot defend the Suicide,
By any Law, by any rule
In Reason's or Religion's school:
Life's the peculiar gift of Heav'n,
And He alone by whom 'tis given,
Can have alone the power to give
The stroke by which we cease to live.
Is Man to say--I've reach'd the goal,
I'll now dismiss th'imprison'd soul;
With my own hand I'll ope the way
From its base tenement of clay Tir'd of its suff'rings here below,
I'll loose it from this scene of woe;
I'll prune its wings and let it fly,
To seek again its native sky:
Yes, I will quench my mortal breath,
I'll be the judge of Life and Death.--
But should, in its immortal sphere,
Say, should th'unsummon'd soul appear
What, what may be the sentence there!
Stay then thy hand, e'er 'tis too late,
Nor madly rush upon thy Fate!
Thou shudd'rest at the horrid mood,
When Murder drinks a brother's blood;
And dare you hope for Virtue's crown,
When your arm'd hand draws forth your own!