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None warmer sought the sires of human kind. Another time perhaps shall sing the joys,
Happy in temperate peace! their equal days The fatal charms, the many woes of wine;
Felt not th' alternate fits of feverish mirth, Perhaps its various tribes and various powers.
And sick dejection. Still serene and pleas'd Meantime, I would not always dread the
They knew no pains but what the tender soul

bowl, With pleasure yields to, and would ne'er forget. Nor every trespass shun. The feverish strife, Blest with divine immunity from ails,

Rous'd by the rare debauch, subdues, expels Long centuries they liv'd; their only fate The loitering crudities that burden life; Was ripe old age, and rather sleep than death. And, like a torrent full and rapid, clears Oh! could those worthies from the world of Gods Ta' obstructed tubes. Besides, this restless world Return to visit their degenerate sons,

Is full of chances, wbich, by habit's power, How would they scorn the joys of modern time, To learn to bear is easier than to shun. With all our art and toil improv'd to pain! Ah ! when ambition, meagre love of gold, Too happy they! but wealth brought luxury, Or sacred country calls, with mellowing wine And luxury on sloth begot disease.

To moisten well the thirsty suffrages; Learn temperance, friends; and hear without Say how, unseason'd to the midnight frays disdain

of Comus and his rout, wilt thou contend The choice of water. Thus the Coan sage With Centaurs long to hardy deeds inur'd ? Opin'd, and thus the learn'd of every school. Then learn to revel ; but by slow degrees : What least of foreign principles partakes By slow degrees the liberal arts are won ; Is best : the lightest then ; what bears the touch And Hercules grew strong. But when you smooth Of fire the least, and soonest mounts in air; The brows of care, indulge your festive vein The most insipid ; the most void of smell. In cups by well-inform'd experience found. Such the rude mountain from his horrid sides The least your bane: and only with your friends. Pours down ; such waters in the sandy vale There are sweet follies ; frailties to be seen For ever boil, alike of winter frosts

By friends alone, and men of generous minds. And sammers heat secure. The crystal stream, Oh! seldom may the fated hours return Thro' rocks resoundiog, or for many a mile Of drinking deep ! I would not daily taste, O'er the chaf'd pebbles burl'd, yields wholesome, Except when life declines, even sober cups. pure,

Weak withering age no rigid law forbids, And mellow draughts ; except when winter thaws, With frugal nectar, smooth and slow with balın, And half the mountains melt into the tide. The sapless habit daily to bedew, Tho' tbirst were e'er so resolute, avoid

And give the hesitating wheels of life The sordid lake, and all such drowsy floods Gliblier to play. But youth has better joys; As fill from Lethe Belgia's slow canals;

And is it wise when youth with pleasure flows, (With rest corrupt, with vegetation green; To squander the reliefs of age and pain! Squalid with generation, and the birth

What dextrous thousands just within the goal Of little monsters ;) till the power of fire Of wild debauch direct their nightly course ! Has from profane embraces disengag'd

Perhaps no sickly qualms bedim their days, The violated lymph. The virgin stream No morning admonitions shock the head. Io boiling wastęs its finer soul in air.

But, ah! what wops remain ! life rolls apace Nothing like simple element dilutes

And that incurable disease, old age, The food, or gives the chyle so soon to flow. In youthful bodies more severely felt, But where the stomach indolent and cold More sternly active, shakes their blasted prime ; Toys with its duty, animate with wine

Except kind Nature by some hasty blow Th’insipid stream: tho golden Ceres yields Prevent the lingering fạtes. For know, whate'er A more voluptuous, a more sprightly draught; Beyond its natural fervour burries on Perbaps more active. Wine unmix'd, and all The sanguine tide; whether the frequent bowl, The gluey floods that from the vex'd abyss High-season'd fare, or exercise to toil Of fermentation spring ; with spirit fraught, Protracted ; spurs to its last stage tir'd life, And furious with intoxicating fire ;

And sows the temples with untimely snow.
Retard concoction, and preserve unthaw'd When life is new the ductile fibres feel
Th' embodied mass. You see what countless The heart's increasing force; and, day by day,
Embalm'd in fiery quintessence of wine, (years, The growth advances : 'till the larger tubes
The puny wonders of the reptile world,

Acquiring (from their clemental veins,
The tender rudiments of life, the slim
Uuravellings of minute anatomny,

5 See Book IV. Maintain their texture, and unchang'd remain. 6 In the human body, as well as in those of

se not yine : the vile excess we blame; other animals, the larger blood vessels are comMore fruitful than th' accumulated board, posed of smaller ones; which, by the violent mo. Of pain and misery. For the subtle draught tion and preșsure of the fluids in the large vessels, Faster and surer swells the vital tide ;

lose their

cavities by degrees, and degenerate into And with more active poison than the noods impervious chords or fibres. In proportion as Of grosser crudity convey, pervades

these small vessels become solid, the larger must The far remote meanders of our frame.

of course become less extensile, more rigid, and Ah! sly deceiver ! branded o'er and o'er, make a stronger resistance to the action of the Yet still believ'd! exulting o'er the wreck heart, and force of the blood. From this graOf şober yows !–But the Parnassian maids dual condensation of the smaller vessels, and con* Hippocrates.

sequent rigidity of the larger ones, the progress of

We curse

Condens'd to solid chords) a firmer tone, If aught these lays the fickle health confirm
Sustain, and just sustain, th' impetuous blood. To you, ye delicate, I write; for you
Here stops the growth. With overbearing pulse I tame my youth to philosophic cares,
And pressure, still the great destroy the small; And grow still paler by the midnight lamps.
Still with the ruins of the small grow strong.

Not to debilitate with timorous rules
Life glows meantime, amid the grinding force A hardy frame: nor needlessly to brave
Of viscous fluids and elastic tubes ;

loglorious dangers, proud of mortal strength, Its various functions vigorously are plied Is all the lesson that in wholesome years By strong machinery ; and in solid health Concerns the strong. His care were ill bestow'd The man confirm'd long triumphs o'er disease. Who would with warm effeminacy nurse But the full ocean ebbs : there is a point, The thriving oak which on the mountain's brow By Nature fix’d, when life must downward tend. Bears all the blasts that sweep the wint'ry HeaFor still the beating tide consolidates

ven. The stubborn vessels, more reluctant still

Behold the labourer of the glebe, who toils To the weak throbs of th’ill supported heart. In dust, in rain, in cold and sultry skies ! This languishing, these strength’ning by degrees Save but the grain from mildews and the flood, To hard unyielding unelastic bone,

Nought anxious he what sickly stars ascend. Thro' tedious channels the congealing food He knows no laws by Esculapius given ; Crawls lazily, and hardly wanders on ;

He studies done. Yet him nor midnight fogs
It loiters still; and now it stirs no more. Infest, nor those envenom'd shafts that fiy
This is the period few attain ; the death When rabid Sirius fires th' autumnal noon.
Of Nature; thus (so Heaven ordain'd it) life His habit pure with plain and temperate meals,
Destroys itself; and could these laws have Robust with labour, and by custom steel'd

To every casualty of varied life;
Nestor might now the fates of Troy relate ; Serene he bears the peevish easter blast,
And Homer live immortal as his song.

And uninfected breathes the mortal south. What does not fade ? the tower that long had Such the reward of rude and sober life; stood

Of labour such. By health the peasant's toil The crush of thunder and the warring winds, Is well repaid ; if exercise were pain Shook by the slow, but sure destroyer, Time, Indeed, and temperance pain. By arts like these Now hangs in doubtful ruins o'er its base. Laconia nurs'd of old her hardy sons ; [way, And finty pyramids, and walls of brass, And Rome's unconquer'd legions urg'd their Descend: the Babylonian spires are sunk; Unburt, through every toil in every clinie. Achaia, Rome, and Egypt moulder down.

Toil, and be strong. By toil the flaccid nerves Time shakes the stable tyranny of thrones, Grow firm, and gain a more compacted tone; And tottering empires crush by their own weight. The greener juices are by toil subdu'd, This huge rotundity we tread grows old ; Mellow'd and subtiliz'd; the vapid old And all those worlds that roll around the Sun, Expell’d, and all the rancour of the blood. The Sun himself, shall die ; and ancient Night Come, my companions, ye who feel the charms Again involve the desolate abyss :

Of Nature and the year; come, let us stray 'Till the Great Father thro' the lifeless gloom Where chance or fancy leads our roving walk : Extend bis arm to light another world,

Come, while the soft voluptuous breezes fan Aud bid new planets roll by other laws.

The feecy Heavens, enwrap the limbs in balm, For through the regions of unbounded space, And shed a charming languour o'er the soul. Where unconfin'd Omnipotence has room, Nor when bright Winter sows with prickly frost Being, in various systems, fuctuates still The vigorous etber, in unmanly warmth Between creation and abhorrd decay:

Indulge at home; nor even when Eurus' blasts It ever did, perhaps and ever will.

This way and that convolve the lab'ring woods. New worlds are still emerging from the deep ; My liberal walks, save when the skies in rain The cld descending, in their turns to rise. Or fogs relent, no season should confine

Or to the cloister'd gallery or arcade.
Go, climb the mountain; from th’ ethereal source

Imbibe the recent gale. The cheerful morn

Beams o'er the hills; go, mount th' exulting THE ART OF PRESERVING

steed. HEALTH.

Already, see, the deep-mouth'd beagles catch

The tainted mazes; and, on eager sport

Intent, with emulous impatience try

Each doubtful trace. Or, if a nobler prey Thro’ various toils th’adventurous Muse has Delight you more, go chase the desperate deer; past ;

And through its deepest solitudes awake But half the toil, and more than half, remains. The vocal forest with the jovial born. Rude is her theme, and hardly fit for song;

But if the breathless chase o'er bill and dale Plain, and of little ornament; and I

Exceed your strength, a sport of less fatigue, But little practis'd in th' Aonian arts.

Not less delightful, the prolific stream Yet not in vain such labours have we tried, Affords. The crystal rivulet, that o'er

A stony channel rolls its rapid maze, the human body from infancy to old age is ac- Swarms with the silver fry. Such, through the counted for,



Of pastoral Stafford, runs the brawling Trent; Blest winter nights ! when as the genial fire Such Eden, sprung from Cumbrian mountains ; Cheers the wide hall, his cordial family such

[stream With soft domestic arts the hours beguile, The Esk, o'erhnng with woods; and such the And pleasing talk that starts no timorous fame, On whose Arcadian banks I first drew air,

With witless wantonness to hunt it down : Liddel; till now, except in Doric lays

Or through the fairy-land of tale or song Tun’d to her murinars by her love-sick swains, Delighted wander, in fictitious fates Unknown in song; though not a purer stream, Engag'd, and all that strikes humanity : Through mearls more flowery, more romantic Till lost in fable, they the stealing hour groves,

[Hood! Of timely rest forget. Sometimes, at eve Rolls toward the western main. Hail, sacred His neighbours lift the latch, and bless unbid May still thy hospitable swains be blest

His festal roof; while, v'er the light repast, In rural innocence; thy mountains still

And sprightly cups, they mix in social joy; Teem with the fleecy race; thy tuneful woods And, through the maze of conversation, trace For ever flourish; and thy vales look gay Wbate'er amuses or improves the mind. With painted meadows, and the golden grain ! Sometimes at eve (for 1 delight to taste Oft, with thy blooming sons, when life was new, The native zest and flavour of the fruit, Sportive and petulant, and charm’d with toys, Where sense grows wild and tastes of no manure) In thy transparent eddies have I lavd:

The decent, honest, cheerful husbandman Oft trac'd with patient steps thy fairy banks, Should drown his labour in my friendly bowl; With the well-imitated fly to hook

And at my table find himself at home. The eager trout, and with the slender line

Whate'er you study, in whate'er you sweat, And yielding rod solicit to the shore

Indulge your taste. Some love the manly foils; The struggling panting prey ; while versial clouds The tennis some; and some the graceful dance. And tepid gales obscurd the ruffled pool, Others more hardy, range the purple heath, And from the deeps call'd forth the wanton Or naked stubble; where, from field to field, swarms.

The sounding coveys urge their labouring flight; Formid on the Samian school, or those of Ind, Eager amid the rising cloud to pour There are who think these pastimes scarce hu- The gun's unerring thunder: and there are

Whom still the meed' of the green archer Yet in my mind (and not relentless I)

His life is pure that wears no fouler stains. He chooses best, whose labour entertains
But if through genuine tenderness of heart, His vacant fancy most: the toil you hate
Or secret want of relish for the game,

Fatigues you soon, and scarce improves your You shun the glories of the chase, nor care

limbs. To haunt the peopled stream ; the garden yields As beauty still has blemish, and the mind A soft amusement, an humane delight.

The most accomplish'd its imperfect side, To raise th’insipid nature of the ground; Few bodies are there of that happy mould Or tame its savage genius to the grace

But some one part is weaker than the rest : Of careless sweet rusticity, that seems

The legs, perhaps, or arms refuse their load, The amiable result of happy chance,

Or the chest labours. These assiduously,
Is to create ; and gives a god-like joy,

But gently, in their proper aris employ'd,
Which every year improves. Nor thou disdain Acquire a vigour and springy activity,
To check the lawless riot of the trees,

To which they were not born. But weaker parts
To plant the grove, or turn the barren mould. Abhor fatigue and violent discipline.
O happy he! whom, when bis years deciine, Begin with gentle toils; and as your nerves
(His fortune and his fame by worthy means

Grow firm, to hardier by just steps aspire ; Attain'd, and equal to his moderate mind; The prudent, even in every moderate walk, His life approv'd by all the wise and good, At first but saunter, and by slow degrees Even envied by the vain) the peaceful groves

Increase their pace. This doctrine of the wise Of Epicuras, from this storiny world,

Well knows the master of the flying steed. Receive to rest; of all ungrateful cares

First from the goal the manag'd coursers play Absolv'd, and sacred froin the selfish crowd. On bended reins; as yet the skilful yonth Happiest of men ! if the same soil invites Repress their foamy pride ; but every breath A chosen few, companions of his youth,

The race grows warmer, and the tempest swells, Once fellow-rakes perhaps, now rural friends; Till all the fiery mettle has its way, With whom in easy commerce to pursue

And the thick thunder hurries o'er the plain. Nature's free charms, and vie for sylvan fame : When all at once from indolence to toil A fair ambition ; void of strife or guile,

You spring, the fibres by the hasty shock Or jealousy, or pain to be outilone.

Are tir'd and crack'd, before their unctuous Who plans th' enchanted garden, who directs

coats, The visto best, and best conducts the stream : Compress'd, can pour the lubricating balm. Whose groves the fastest thicken and ascend; Besides, collected in the passive veins, Wbom first the welcome Spring salutes; who The purple mass a sudden torrent rolls, shows

O'erpowers the heart, and deluges the lungs The earliest bloom, the sweetest proudest charms With dangerous inundation : oft the source Of Flora; who best gives Pomona's juice To match the sprightly genius of champagne. This word is much used by some of the old Thrice happy days! in rural business past: English poets, and signifies reward or prize. VOL. XVI.


Of fatal woes; a cough that foams with blood, Or more or less, so more or less you feel
Asthma, and feller peripneumony,

The functions labour : from this fatal source
Or the slow minings of the hectic fire.

What woes descend is never to be supy. Th'athletic fool, to whom wbat Heaven deny'd To take their numbers were to count the sands Of soul is well compensated in limbs,

That ride in whirlwind the parch'd Libyan zir; Oft from his rage, or brainless frolic, feels Or waves that, when the blustering North emHis vegetation and brute force decay.

broils The men of better clay and finer mould

The Baltie, thunder on the German shore. Know nature, feel the huinan dignity,

Subject not then, by soft emollient arts, And scorn to vie with oxen or with apes.

This grand expense, on which your fates dcpend, Pursu'd prolixly, even the gentlest toil To every caprice of the sky; nor thwart Is waste of health : repose by small fatigue The genius of your clime: for from the bkod Is earn'd, and (where your habit is not prone Least tickle rise the recremental steams, To thaw) by the first moisture of the brows. And least obnoxious to the styptic air, The fine and subtle spirits cost too much

Which breathe through straiter and more callous To be profus'd, too much the roscid balm.

pores. But when the hard varieties of life

The temper'd Scythian hence, half-naked treads You toil to learn, or try the dusty chase, His boundless snows, nor rues th' inclement Or the warm deeds of some important day:

Heaven; Hot from the field, indulge not yet your linbs And hence our painted ancestors defied In wish'd repose; nor court the fanning gale, The east: nor curs’d, like us, their fickle sky. Nor taste the spring. O! by the sacred tears - The body, moulded by the clime, endures Of widows, orphans, mothers, sisters, sires, The equator beats or hyperborean frost : Forbear! no other pestilence has driven

Except by habits foreign to its turn, Such myriads o'er th' irremeable deep.

Unwise you counteract its forming pow'r. Why this so fatal, the sagacious Muse

Rude at the tirst, the winter shocks you less Thro' nature's cunping labyrinths could trace : By long acquaintance : study then your sky, But there are secrets which who knows pot now, Form to its manners your obsequious frame, Must, ere he reach them, climb the heapy Alps And learn to suffer what you cannot shun. Of science; and devote seven years to toil. Against the rigors of a damp cold heav'n Besides, I would not stun your patient ears To fortify their bodies, some frequent With what it little boots you to attain.

'The gelid cisterni; and, where nought forbids, He knows enough, the mariner, who knows I praise their dauntless heart: a frame so steeld Where lurk the shelves, and where the whirlpools Dreads not the cough, nor those ungenial blasts boil,

That breathe the tertian or fell rheuinatism; What signs portend the storm: to subtler minds The nerves so temper'd never quit their tone, He leaves to scan, from what mysterious cause No chronic languors haunt such hardy breasts Charybdis rages in th' lonian wave;

But all things have their bounds: and he ubo Whence those impe uous currents in the main By daily use the kindest regimen [makes Which neither oar nor sail can stem ; and why Essential to his health, should never mix The roughening deep expects the storm, as sure With human kind, nor art nor trade pursue. As red Orion mounts the shrouded Heaven. He not the safe vicissitudes of life

In ancient times, when Rome with Athens vied Without some shock endures; ill-fitted he For polish'd luxury and useful arts;

To want the known, or bear unusual things. All hot and reeking from th’ Olympic strife, Besides, the powerful reinedies of pain And warm Palestra, in the tepid bath

(Since pain in spite of all our care will come) Th'athletic youth relax'd their weary limbs. Should never with your prosperous days of health Soft oils bedew'd them, with the grateful pow'rs Grow too familiar : for by frequent use Of nard and cassia fraught, to sooth and heal The strongest medicines lose their healing power, The cherish'd nerves. Our less voluptuous And even the surest poisons theirs to kill. clime

Let those who dom the frozen Arctos reach Not mucb invites us to such arts as these. Parch'd Mauritania, or the sultry west, 'Tis not for those, whom gelid skies embrace, Or the wide tood that laves rich Indostan, And chilling fogs; whose perspiration feels Plunge thrice a day, and in the tepid wave Such frequent bars from Eurus and the North ; Untwist their stubborn pores; that full and free 'Tis not for those to cultivate a skin

Tli'evaporation through the soften'd skin Too soft : or teach the recremental fume

May bear proportion to the swelling bluod. Too fast to crowd thro' such precarious ways. So inay they 'scape the fever's rapid fames; For through the small arterial mouths,that pierce So feel untainted the hot breath of Hell. In endless millions the close-woven skin,

Wiib us, the man of no complaint demands The baser fluids in a constant stream

The warm ablution just enough to clear
Escape, and viewless melt into the winds. The sluices of the skin, enough to keep
While this eternal, this most copious waste The body sacred from indecent soil.
Of blood, degenerate into vapid brine,

Still to be pure, ev'n did it not conduce Maintains its wonted measure, all the powers (As much it does) to health, were greatly worth Of health befriend you, all the wheels of life Your daily pains. 'Tis this adorns the rich; With ease and pleasure more: but this restrain'd The want of this is poverty's worst woe;

With this external virtue age maintains • The inflammation of the lungs. A decent grace; without it youth and charms


Are loathsome. This the venal graces know; With feasts too late, too sordid, or too full:
So doubtless do your wives: for married sires, But be the first concoction half-matur'd
As well as lovers, still pretend to taste;

Ere you to mighty indolence resign
Nor is it less (all prudent wives can tell) Your passive faculties. He from the toils
To lose a husban,P's than a lover's heart.

And troubles of the day to heavier toil [rocks
But now the bours and seasons when to toil Retires, whom trembling from the tower that
From foreign themes recal my wandering song. Amid the clouds, or Calpe's hideous height,
Some labour fasting, or but slightly fed

The busy demons hurl; or in the main To lull the grinding stomach's hungry rage.

O'erwhelm; or bury struggling under ground, Where nature feeds too corpulent a frame Not all a monarch's luxury the woes 'Tis wisely done: for while the thirsty veins, Can counterpoise of that most wretched man, Impatient of lean penury, devour

Whose nights are shaker with the frantic fits The treasur'd oil, then is the happiest time Of wild Orestes; whose delirious brain, To shake the lazy balsam from its cells.

Stung by the furies, works with poison'd thought; Now while the stomach from the full repast

While pale and monstrous painting sboeks the Subsides, but ere returning hunger gnaws, Ye leaner habits, give an hour to toil:

And mangled consciousness bemoans itself And yo whom no luxuriancy of growth

For erer torn; and chaos floating round. Oppresses yet, or threatens to oppress.

What dreams presage, what dangers these or But from the recent meal no labours please,

those Of limbs or mind. For now the cordial powers

Portend to sanity, tho' prudent seers Claim all the wandering spirits to a work

Reveal'd of old, and men of deathless fame, Of strong and subtle toil, and great event: We would not to the supersticious mind A work of time: and you may rue the day Suggest new thrubs, new vanities of fear. You burried, with untimely exercise,

T'is ours to teach you from the peaceful night A half-concocted chyle into the blood.

To banish omens and all restless woes.
The body overcharged with unctuous phlegm In study some protract the silent hours,
Much toil demands: the lean elastic less.

Which others consecrate to mirth and wine; While winter chills the blood and binds the And sleep till noon, and hardly live till night. veins,

But surely this redeems not from the shades No labours are too hard: by those you 'scape

One hour of life. Nor does it naught avail The slow diseases of the torpid year;

What season you to drowsy Morpheus give Endless to name; to one of which alone,

Of th' ever-varying circle of the day; To that which tears the nerves, the toil of slaves Or whether, through the tedious winter gloom, Is pleasure: Oh! from such inhuman pains You tempt the midnight or the morning damps May all be free who merit not the wheel ! The body, fresh and vigorous from repose, But from the burning Lion when the Sun

Defies the early fogs : but, by the toils Pours down his sultry wrath; now while the Of wakeful day exhausted and unstrung, blood

Weakly resists the night's unwholesome breath. Too much already maddens in the veins,

The grand discharge, th' effusion of the skin, And all the finer fluids through the skin

Slowly impair'd, the languid maladies (steal. Explore their flight; me, near the cool cascade Creep on, and through the sick’ning functions Reclin'd, or saunt'ring in the lofty grove, As, when the chilling east inrades the Spring, No needless slight occasion should engage

The delicate narcissus pines away To pant and sweat beneath the fiery noon. In hectic languor, and a slow disease Now the fresh morn alone and mellow eve Taints all the family of flowers, condemn'd To shady walks and active rural sports

To cruel heav'ns. But why, already prone Jovite. But, while the chilling dews descend, To fade, should beauty cherish its own bane? May nothing tempt you to the cold embrace O shame! O pity! nipt with pale quadrille, Of humid skies ; though 'is no vulgar joy And midnight cares, the bloom of Albion dies! To trace the horrours of the solemn wood

By toil subdu'd, the warrior and the hind While the soft evening saddens into night : Sleep fast and deep: their active functions soon Thougb the sweet poet of the vernal groves With generous streams the subtle tubes supply: Melts all the night in strains of am'rous woe. And soon the tonic irritable nerves The shades descend, and midnight o'er the Feel the fresh impulse and awake the soul. world

The sons of indolence with long repose Expands her sable wings. Great nature droops Grow torpid; and, witli slowest Lethe drunk, Thro' all her works. Now happy he whose toil Feebly and ling'ringly return to life, Has o'er his languid powerless limbs diffus'd Blunt every sense and pew'rless every limb. A pleasing lassitude: he not in vain

Ye, prone to sleep (whom sleeping most anInvokes the gentle deity of dreams.

On the hard matrass or elastic couch [noys) His powers the most voluptuously dissolve Extend your limbs, and wean yourselves from In soft repose : on him the balmy dews Of sleep with double nutriment descend.

Nor grudge the lean projector, of dry brain But would you sweetly waste the blank of night And springy nerves, the blandishments of down : In deep oblivion; or on Fancy's wings

Nor enry while the buried Bacchaval Visit the paradise of happy dreams,

Exhales his surfeit in prolixer dreams. And waken cheerful as the lively morn;

He without riot, in the balmy feast Oppress not nature sinking down to rest

Of life, the wants of nature has supply'd,


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