And hear, ye hardiest sons that Albion breeds, 240
Long toss’d and famish’d on the wintry main;
The war shook off, or hospitable shore
Attain’d, with temperance bear the shock of joy;
Nor crown with festive rites th’ auspicious day:
Such feast might prove more fatal than the waves, 245
Than war, or famine. While the vital fire
Burns feebly, heap not the green fuel on;
But prudently foment the wandering spark
With what the soonest feels its kindred touch: