stanzas, on the same occasion

why am i loth to leave this earthly scene?

have i so found it full of pleasing charms?

some drops of joy with draughts of ill between—

some gleams of sunshine 'mid renewing storms,

is it departing pangs my soul alarms?

or death's unlovely, dreary, dark abode?

for guilt, for guilt, my terrors are in arms:

i tremble to approach an angry god,

and justly smart beneath his sin-avenging rod.

fain would i say, “forgive my foul offence,”

fain promise never more to disobey;

but, should my author health again dispense,

again i might desert fair virtue's way;