Alexander Pope. (№ 357544)

The soul, wandering flame!
You warmed my chest,
And now light wings
My guest, fly in the opposite way?
Where you now dwell,
In the bleak edges - what?
Tossing, shaking, you die;
The merriment ceased, the laughter died down!
Ah! Fleeting Spirit! wand'ring of Fire,
That long hast warm'd my tender Breast,
Must thou no more this Frame inspire?
No more a pleasing, chearful Guest?
Whither, ah whither art thou flying!
To what dark, undiscover'd Shore?
Thou seem'st all trembling, shiv''ring, dying,
And Wit and Humour are no more!