Meantime, I would not always dread the bowl,
Nor every trespass shun. The feverish strife, 470
Rous’d by the rare debauch, subdues, expells
The loitering crudities, that burthen life;
And, like a torrent full and rapid, clears
Th’ obstructed tubes. Besides, this restless world
Is full of chances, which by habit’s power 475
To learn to bear is easier than to shun.
Ah! when ambition, meagre love of gold,
Or sacred country calls, with mellowing wine