Led by sagacious taste, the ruthless king Of beasts on blood and slaughter only lives: 140 The tyger, form’d alike to cruel meals, Would at the manger starve: Of milder seeds, The generous horse to herbage and to grain Confines his wish; tho’ fabling Greece resound The Thracian steeds with human carnage wild. 145 Prompted by instinct’s never-erring power, Each creature knows its proper aliment; But man, th’ inhabitant of every clime, With all the commoners of nature feeds. Directed, bounded, by this pow’r within, 150 Their cravings are well-aim’d: Voluptous man Is by superior faculties misled; Misled from pleasure even in quest of joy. Sated with nature’s boons, what thousands seek, With dishes tortur’d from their native taste, 155 And mad variety, to spur beyond Its wiser will the jaded appetite! Is this for pleasure? Learn a juster taste; And know, that temperance is true luxury. Or is it pride? Pursue some nobler aim. 160 Dismiss your parasites, who praise for hire; And earn the fair esteem of honest men, Whose praise is fame. Form’d of such clay as yours, The sick, the needy, shiver at your gates. Even modest want may bless your hand unseen, 165 Tho’ hush’d in patient wretchedness at home. Is there no virgin, grac’d with every charm But that which binds the mercenary vow? No youth of genius, whose neglected bloom Unfoster’d sickens in the barren shade? 170 No worthy man, by fortune’s random blows, Or by a heart too generous and humane, Constrain’d to leave his happy natal seat, And sigh for wants more bitter than his own? There are, while human miseries abound, 175 A thousand ways to waste superfluous wealth, Without one fool or flatterer at your board, Without one hour of sickness or disgust.