Your sweetest food will but your life sustain,
And your best pleasure be a rest from pain;
While, through each year, as health and strength abate,
You'll weep your woes and wonder at your fate;
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And cry, 'Behold, as life's last cares come on,
My burthens growing when my strength is gone!'
"Now turn with me, and all the young desire,
That taste can form, that fancy can require;
All that excites enjoyment, or procures