Page:The Art of Preserving Health - A Poem in Four Books.djvu/126

118 To counterpoise itself, relentless Fate Forbids that we thro' gay voluptuous wilds Should ever roam: And were the Fates more kind Our narrow luxuries would soon be stale. Were these exhaustless, Nature would grow sick. And, cloy'd with pleasure, squeamishly complain That all was vanity, and life a dream. Let nature rest: Be busy for yourself, And for your friend; be busy even in vain Rather than teize her fated appetites. Who never fasts no banquet e'er enjoys; Who never toils or watches never sleeps. Let nature rest: And when the taste of joy Grows keen, indulge; but shun satiety.

'Tis not for mortals always to be blest. But him the least the dull or painful hours Of life oppress, whom sober Sense conducts Rh