But for himself, in conscious virtue brave, And kiss'd her thoughtless babes with many a tear, O luxury! thou curs'd by heav'n's decree, Kingdoms by thee, to sickly greatness grown, At ev'ry draught more large and large they grow, Till sapp'd their strength, and ev'ry part unsound, Down, down they sink, and spread a ruin round. E'en now the devastation is begun, And half the bus'ness of destruction done; E'en now, methinks, as pond'ring here I stand, Down where yon anch'ring vessel spreads the sail, And kind connubial tenderness, are there; And piety with wishes plac'd above, And thou sweet Poetry, thou loveliest maid, Thou source of all my bliss, and all my woe, Farewel! and O! where'er thy voice be try'd, Or winter wraps the polar world in snow, |