O Love! divinest dream of youth,
Thy day of ecstacy is o'er,
My bosom, touch'd by time and truth,
Thrills at thy dear deceits no more.
Nor thou, Ambition! e'er again,
With splendour dazzling to betray,
And aspirations fierce and vain,
Shall tempt my steps--away! away!
Alas! by stern Experience cleft,
When life's romance is turn'd to sport;
If man hath consolation left
On this side death--'tis good old port.
And thou, Advice! who glum and chill,
Do'st the third bottle still gainsay;
Smile, and partake it, if you will,
But if you wont--away! away!
Mature Reflections. by Thomas Gent