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The Equipage

by
 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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