“Fair laughs the Morn, and soft the Zephyr blows
“While proudly riding o’er the azure realm
“In gallant trim the gilded Vessel goes;
“Youth on the prow, and Pleasure at the helm;
“Regardless of the sweeping Whirlwind’s sway,
“That, hush’d in grim repose, expects his evening-prey.
VI.
“Fill high the sparking bowl
“The rich repast prepare,
“Reft of a crown, he yet may share the feast: