[64]Smooth is the track of vice, the mansion near:
On virtue’s path delays and perils grow:
The gods have placed before [65]the sweat that bathes the brow:
And ere the foot can reach her high abode,
Long, rugged, steep th’ ascent, and rough the road.
The ridge once gain’d, the path so rude of late
Runs easy on, and level to the gate.
Far best is he whom conscious wisdom guides;
Who first and last the right and fit decides:
He too is good, that [66]to the wiser friend