On the Same.
SO well Corinna likes the Joy,
She vows she'll never more be coy,
She drinks eternal Draughts of Pleasure:
Eternal Draughts will not suffice,
Ah give me, give me more, she cries,
'Tis all too little Measure.
Thus wisely she makes up for Time
Mis-spent, while Youth was in its Prime:
So Travellers who waste the Day
Careful and cautious of their Way,
Noting at length the setting Sun,
They mend their Pace at Night comes on,
Double their Speed to reach their Inn,
And whip and spur thro' thick and thin.