FULL many a tedious hour, with care opprest,
Stretch'd on my weary bed, I wakeful lay,
Sad troublous thoughts, like hornets, stung my breast,
And brush'd the dews of balmy sleep away.
Ah! what avails, I cry'd, with painful toil,
By Virtue's stedfast star the bark to guide,
Far from Acrasia's wily-wandering isle,
Where ease and pleasure the frail heart divide;
If Life's short voyage undistinguish'd tends
To darkness, and the land where all forgotten ends?