And leaves the rock no tempest shall displace,
To rear his dwelling on the quicksand’s base?
Votary of doubt! then join the festal throng,
Bask in the sunbeam, listen to the song,
Spread the rich board, and fill the wine-cup high,
And bind the wreath ere yet the roses die!
’Tis well—thine eye is yet undimm’d by time,
And thy heart bounds, exulting in its prime;
Smile then unmoved at Wisdom’s warning voice,
And in the glory of thy strength rejoice!