Meantime, I would not always dread the bowl, Nor every trespass shun. The feverish strife, 470 Rous’d by the rare debauch, subdues, expells The loitering crudities, that burthen life; And, like a torrent full and rapid, clears Th’ obstructed tubes. Besides, this restless world Is full of chances, which by habit’s power 475 To learn to bear is easier than to shun. Ah! when ambition, meagre love of gold, Or sacred country calls, with mellowing wine To moisten well the thirsty suffrages; Say how, unseason’d to the midnight frays 480 Of Comus and his rout, wilt thou contend With Centaurs long to hardy deeds inur’d? Then learn to revel; but by slow degrees: By slow degrees the liberal arts are won; And Hercules grew strong. But when you smooth 485 The brows of care, indulge your festive vein In cups by well-inform’d experience found The least your bane; and only with your friends. There are sweet follies, frailties to be seen By friends alone, and men of generous minds. 490 Oh! seldom may the fated hours return Of drinking deep! I would not daily taste, Except when life declines, even sober cups. Weak withering age no rigid law forbids, With frugal nectar, smooth and slow with balm, 495 The sapless habit daily to bedew, And give the hesitating wheels of life Gliblier to play. But youth has better joys; And is it wise when youth with pleasure flows, To squander the reliefs of age and pain? 500