And is it wise when youth with pleasure flows,
To squander the reliefs of age and pain? 500
What dext’rous thousands just within the goal
Of wild debauch direct their nightly course!
Perhaps no sickly qualms bedim their days,
No morning admonitions shock the head.
But ah! what woes remain! Life rolls apace, 505
And that incurable disease old age,
In youthful bodies more severely felt,
More sternly active, shakes their blasted prime: