57

Still-streaming thoroughfares of dull debauch !

* Trembling each gulp, lest death should snatch the bowl.

Such of our fine ones is the wish refined—

So would they have it: elegant desire !

Why not invite the bellowing stalls and wilds ?

But such examples might their riot awe.

Through want of virtue, that is, want of thought,

Though on bright thought they father all their flights,

To what are they reduced ? to love and hate

The same vain world; to censure and espouse

This painted shrew of life, who calls them fool

Each moment of each day; to flatter bad

Through dread of worse; to cling to this rude rock,

Barren, to them, of good, and sharp with ills,

And hourly blacken'd with impending storms,

And infamous for wrecks of human hope—

Scared at the gloomy gulph that yawns beneath.

Such are their triumphs! such their pangs of joy!

'Tis time, high time to shift this dismal scene :

This hugg'd, this hideous state what art can cure ?

One only, but that one what all may reach,

Virtue—she, wonder-working goddess! charms

That rock to bloom, and tames the painted shrew ;

And what will more surprise, LORENZO! gives

To life's sick nauseous iteration, change;

And straitens nature's circle to a line.

Believest thou this, LORENZO? lend an ear,

A patient ear, thou'lt blush to disbelieve.

A languid leaden iteration reigns,

And ever must, o'er those whose joys are joys