There sit, and now discreeter grown,
Too late their rashness they bemoan;
And this by dear experience gain,
“That pleasure’s ever bought with pain.”
So when the gilded baits of vice
Are plac’d before our longing eyes,
With greedy haste we snatch our fill,
And swallow down the latent ill;
But when experience opes our eyes,
Away the fancied pleasure flies—