A mans ingress into the world is naked and bare, His progress through the world is trouble and care; And lastly, his egress out of the world, is nobody knows where. If we do well here, we shall do well there: I can tell you no more if I preach a whole year.2
The Eccentricities of John Edwin (second edition), vol. i. p. 74. London, 1791.
But as some muskets so contrive it As oft to miss the mark they drive at, And though well aimed at duck or plover, Bear wide, and kick their owners over.
As though there were a tie And obligation to posterity. We get them, bear them, breed, and nurse: What has posterity done for us.
Note 1. Written for the Bow Street Theatre, Portsmouth, New Hampshire. [back]
Note 2. These lines Edwin offers as heads of a sermon. Longfellow places them in the mouth of The Cobbler of Hagenau, as a familiar tune. See The Wayside Inn, part ii. The Students Tale. [back]