He would have found forgiveness, comfort, rest. But all this joy was to our Youth denied By his fierce passions and his daring pride; And shame and doubt impell'd him in a course, Once so abhorr'd, with unresisted force, Proud minds and guilty, whom their crimes oppress, Fly to new crimes for comfort and redress; So found our fallen Youth a short relief In wine, the opiate guilt applies to grief, - From fleeting mirth that o'er the bottle lives, From the false joy its inspiration gives, - And from associates pleased to find a friend With powers to lead them, gladden, and defend, In all those scenes where transient ease is found, For minds whom sins oppress and sorrows wound. Wine is like anger; for it makes us strong, Blind, and impatient, and it leads us wrong; The strength is quickly lost, we feel the error long: Thus led, thus strengthen'd, in an evil cause, For folly pleading, sought the Youth applause; Sad for a time, then eloquently wild, He gaily spoke as his companions smiled; Lightly he rose, and with his former grace Proposed some doubt, and argued on the case; Fate and foreknowledge were his favourite themes - How vain man's purpose, how absurd his schemes: "Whatever is, was ere our birth decreed; We think our actions from ourselves proceed, And idly we lament th' inevitable deed; It seems our own, but there's a power above Directs the motion, nay, that makes us move; Nor good nor evil can you beings name, Who are but rooks and castles in the game; Superior natures with their puppets play, Till, bagg'd or buried, all are swept away." Such were the notions of a mind to ill Now prone, but ardent and determined still: Of joy now eager, as before of fame, And screen'd by folly when assail'd by shame, Deeply he sank; obey'd each passion's call, And used his reason to defend them all. Shall I proceed, and step by step relate The odious progress of a Sinner's fate? No--let me rather hasten to the time (Sure to arrive!) when misery waits on crime. With Virtue, prudence fled; what Shore possessed Was sold, was spent, and he was now distressed: And Want, unwelcome stranger, pale and wan, Met with her haggard looks the hurried man: His pride felt keenly what he must expect From useless pity and from cold neglect. Struck by new terrors, from his friends he fled, And wept his woes upon a restless bed; Retiring late, at early hour to rise, With shrunken features, and with bloodshot eyes: If sleep one moment closed the dismal view, Fancy her terrors built upon the true: And night and day had their alternate woes, That baffled pleasure, and that mock'd repose; Till to despair and anguish was consign'd The wreck and ruin of a noble mind. Now seized for debt, and lodged within a jail, He tried his friendships, and he found them fail; Then fail'd his spirits, and his thoughts were all Fix'd on his sins, his sufferings, and his fall: His ruffled mind was pictured in his face, Once the fair seat of dignity and grace: