Cards with what rapture, and the polish'd die,
The yawning chafm of indolence fupply!
Then to the dance, and make the fober moon
Witness of joys that fhun the fight of noon.
Blame cynic, if you can, quadrille or ball,
The fnug close party, or the fplendid hall,
Where night down-ftooping from her ebon throne,
Views conftellations brighter than her own.
'Tis innocent, and harmless and refin'd,
The balm of care, elyfium of the mind.
Innocent! Oh if venerable time
Slain at the foot of pleasure, be no crime,
Then with his filver beard and magic wand,
Let Comus rife Archbishop of the land,
Let him your rubric and your feafts prescribe,
Grand metropolitan of all the tribe.
Of manners rough, and coarfe athletic caft,
The rank debauch fuits Clodio's filthy taste.
Rufillus, exquifitely form'd by rule,
Not of the moral, but the dancing school,
Wonders at Clodio's follies, in a tone
As tragical, as others at his own.
He cannot drink five bottles, bilk the score,
Then kill a conftable, and drink five more;
But he can draw a pattern, make a tart,
And has the ladies etiquette by heart.
Go fool, and arm in arm with Clodio, plead
Your caufe, before a bar you little dread;
But know, the law that bids the drunkard die,
Is far too juft to pass the trifler by.
Both baby featur'd and of infant size,
View'd from a diftance, and with heedlefs eyes,
Folly and innocence are so alike,
The diff'rence, though effential, fails to ftrike.
Yet folly ever has a vacant ftare,..
A fimp'ring count'nance, and a trifling air ;
But innocence, fedate, ferene, erect,
Delights us, by engaging our respect.
Man, nature's gueft by invitation fweet,
Receives from her, both appetite and treat,
E 2
But if he play the glutton and exceed,
His benefactress blushes at the deed.
For nature, nice, as lib'ral to dispense,
Made nothing but a brute the flave of fenfe.
Daniel ate pulfe by choice, example rare!
Heav'n blefs'd the youth, and made him fresh and
Gorgonius fits abdominous and wan,
Like a fat fquab upon a Chinese fan.
He fnuffs far off th' anticipated joy,
Turtle and ven'fon all his thoughts employ,
Prepares for meals, as jockeys take a sweat,
Oh naufeous! an emetic for a whet-
Will providence o'erlook the wafted good?
Temperance were no virtue if he cou'd.
That pleasures, therefore, or what fuch we call,
Are hurtful, is a truth confefs'd by all.
And some that feem to threaten virtue less,
Still hurtful, in th' abuse, or by th' excess.
Is man then only for his torment plac'd, The center of delights he may not taste?
Like fabled Tantalus condemn'd to hear
The precious stream still purling in his ear,
Lip-deep in what he longs for, and yet curft
With prohibition and perpetual thirst?
No, wrangler-deftitute of fhame and sense,
The precept that injoins him abftinence,
Forbids him none but the licentious joy,
Whofe fruit, though fair, tempts only to deftroy.
Remorse, the fatal egg by pleasure laid
In every bofom where her neft is made,
Hatch'd by the beams of truth denies him reft,
And proves a raging fcorpion in his breast.
No pleasure ? Are domestic comforts dead?
Are all the nameless sweets of friendship fled?
Has time worn out, or fashion put to shame
Good fenfe, good health, good confcience, and
good fame?
All these belong to virtue, and all prove
That virtue has a title to your love.
you no touch of pity, that the poor Stand starved at your inhofpitable door?
Or if yourfelf too fcantily supplied
Need help, let honeft industry provide.
Earn, if you want, if you abound, impart,
These both are pleafures to the feeling heart.
No pleasure? Has fome fickly eastern wafte
Sent us a wind to parch us at a blast ?
Can British paradise no scenes afford
To please her fated and indiff'rent lord ?
Are fweet philofophy's enjoyments run
Quite to the lees? And has religion none?
Brutes capable, should tell you 'tis a lye,
And judge you from the kennel and the fty.
Delights like thefe, ye fenfual and profane,
Ye are bid, begg'd, befought to entertain ;
Call'd to thefe crystal streams, do ye turn off
Obfcene, to fwill and fwallow at a trough?
Envy the beast then, on whom heav'n beftows
Your pleasures, with no curfes in the clofe.
Pleasure admitted in undue degree,
Enslaves the will, nor leaves the judgment free.
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