Why, all the Saints and Sages who discussed Of the Two Worlds so learnedly, are thrust Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn Are scattered, and their Mouths are stopped with Dust.
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"Oh, many a Cup of this forbidden Wine Must drown the memory of that insolence!"
"For in and out, above, about, below, 'Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show, Played in a Box whose Candle is the Sun, Round which we Phantom Figures come and go."
"And if the Wine you drink, the Lip you press, End in the Nothing all Things end in—Yes—Then fancy while thou art, thou art but what Thou shalt be—Nothing—Thou shalt not be less."
"For in and out, above, about, below, 'Tis nothing but a Magic Shadow-show, Play'd by the Magic Lantern born of Night, And into perfect Light begins to flow."
"I sent my Soul through the Invisible, Some letter of that After-life to spell: And by and by my Soul return'd to me, And evermore my Soul said, 'I myself am Heav'n and Hell.'"
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