Fatal effects of luxury and ease! We drink our poison and we eat disease; Indulge our senses at our reason's cost, Till sense is pain, and reason hurt or lost. Not so, O Temperance bland! when rul'd by thee, The brute's obedient, and the man is free. Soft are his slumbers, balmy is his rest, His veins not boiling from the midnight feast. Touch'd by Aurora's rosy hand, he wakes Peaceful and calm, and with the world partakes The joyful dawnings of returning day, For which their grateful thanks the whole creation pay; -- All but the human brute: 'tis he alone, Whose works of darkness fly the rising sun. 'Tis to thy rules, O Temperance! that we owe All pleasures, which from health and strength can flow; Vigour of body, purity of mind, Unclouded reason, sentiments refin'd, Unmixt, untainted joys without remorse, The intemperate sinner's never failing curse. |