The blush of morning, in his cheek, turns pale; 255
Its pearly dewdrop trembles in his eye;
His harmless eye! and drowns an angel there.
Ah! what avails his innocence? The task
Enjoin’d must discipline his early powers;
He learns to sigh, ere he is known to sin;
Guiltless, and sad! a wretch before the fall!
How cruel this! more cruel to forbear. 262
Our nature such, with necessary pains,
We purchase prospects of precarious peace: