25
"The active life of Labour gives no room
To that dull spleen the Indolent endure;
Generous cares dispel our mental gloom,
And Industry is Melancholy's cure.
26
"Repine not then, that low thy lot is cast;
Health gives to life or high or low it's zest;
'Tis Appetite that seasons our repast,
And Weariness still finds the softest rest.