The Equipage

 Since the Road of Life's so ill; 
I, to pass it, use this Skill, 
My frail Carriage driving home 
To its latest Stage, the Tomb.
 
Justice first, in Harness strong, 
Marches stedfastly along: 
Charity, to smooth the Pace, 
Fills the next adjoining Trace: 
Independance leads the Way, 
Whom no heavy Curb do's sway; 
Truth an equal Part sustains, 
All indulg'd the loosen'd Reins: 
In the Box fits vig'rous Health, 
Shunning miry Paths of Wealth: 
Gaiety with easy Smiles, 
Ev'ry harsher Step beguiles; 
Whilst of Nature, or of Fate 
Only This I wou'd intreat: 
The Equipage might not decay, 
Till the worn Carriage drops away.

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