The rapid fates admit of no delay. 510
While wilful you, and fatally secure,
Expect to morrow’s more auspicious sun,
The growing pest, whose infancy was weak
And easy vanquish’d, with triumphant sway
O’erpow’rs your life. For want of timely care 515
Millions have died of medicable wounds.
Ah! in what perils is vain life engag’d!
What slight neglects, what trivial faults destroy
The hardiest frame! Of indolence, of toil,