Because we are unable to conceive,
How unembody'd souls can act, and live,
The vulgar give them forms, and limbs, and faces,
And habitations in peculiar places;
Hence reasoners more refin'd, but not more wise,
Struck with the glare of such absurdities,
Their whole existence sabulous suspect,
And truth and falshood in a lump reject;
Too indolent to learn what may be known,
Or else too proud that ignorance to own.
For hard's the task the daubing to pervade
Folly and fraud on Truth's fair form have laid;
Yet let that task be ours; for great the prize;
Nor let us Truth's celestial charms despise,
Because that priests, or poets may disguise.