22
POEMS.
Despised be the Hermit, detested the Rake;
The Last is a Villain, the First is a Fool:
Not theirs be the lives which for models I take,
Not theirs be the maxims my conduct to rule.
I'll aim not at virtues for Man too sublime,
I'll pervert not my pleasures by vicious excess;
But while Bacchus and Love aid the progress of Time,
May Honour and Sense their encroachments repress.
The Last is a Villain, the First is a Fool:
Not theirs be the lives which for models I take,
Not theirs be the maxims my conduct to rule.
I'll aim not at virtues for Man too sublime,
I'll pervert not my pleasures by vicious excess;
But while Bacchus and Love aid the progress of Time,
May Honour and Sense their encroachments repress.
When Remorse with my kisses her poison would blend,
May Beauty's soft bosom ne'er throb against mine;
When the grape proves my Tyrant, no longer my Friend,
Oh Lips! may I ne'er again bathe you in wine!
But when at the tears of a stranger I melt,
Or my spirits are sunk by the pressure of care,
May Love give me thanks, that for others I felt,
And Wine give me strength my own burthen to bear.
May Beauty's soft bosom ne'er throb against mine;
When the grape proves my Tyrant, no longer my Friend,
Oh Lips! may I ne'er again bathe you in wine!
But when at the tears of a stranger I melt,
Or my spirits are sunk by the pressure of care,
May Love give me thanks, that for others I felt,
And Wine give me strength my own burthen to bear.
