Ah no! he breathes no more. 'Tis very strange!
How still he's now! how fiery hot—how cold
How terrible! How lifeless! all within
A few brief moments!—My reason staggers!
Philosophy, thy poor enlightened dotard,
Who canst for every thing assign a cause,
Here take thy stand beside me, and explain
This hidden mystery. Bring with thee
The head strong Atheist; who laughs at heaven
And impiously ascribes events to chance,