Bury'd in Sloth, and lost in Ease I lay:
The Night I revell'd; and I slept the Day.
New Heaps of Fewel damp'd my kindling Fires;
And daily Change extinguish'd young Desires.
By its own Force destroy'd, Fruition ceas'd;
And always weary'd, I was never pleas'd.
No longer now does my neglected Mind
It's wonted Stores, and old  find.
Fix'd Judgment there no longer does abide,
To take the True, or set the False aside.
No longer does swift Mem'ry trace the Cells,
Where springing Wit, or young Invention dwells.
Frequent Debauch to Habitude prevails:
Patience of Toil, and Love of Virtue fails.
By sad Degrees impair'd my Vigor dyes;
Till I Command no longer ev'n in Vice.