Murtagh McDermot, A Trip to the Moon (1728)
“ How often have I strove to rid my self of this hated load of Life, since the Magnet of my Soul holds its repelling end to me; but the cruel Fates deny me the Happiness of dying yet, especially in the Manner I wou'd chuse; I thought to steal from this unpleasant World: For what can delight me, when I do not enjoy what I most ardently wish for? I thought to entomb my self in the River, and assist the God of it with my Tears to supply his Urn. ”
