But most too passive, when the blood runs low, Too weakly indolent to strive with pain, 165 And bravely by resisting conquer Fate, Try Circe’s arts; and in the tempting bowl Of poison’d Nectar sweet oblivion drink. Struck by the powerful charm, the gloom dissolves In empty air; Elysium opens round. 170 A pleasing phrenzy buoys the lighten’d soul, And sanguine hopes dispel your fleeting care; And what was difficult, and what was dire, Yields to your prowess and superior stars: The happiest you, of all that e’er were mad, 175 Or are, or shall be, could this folly last. But soon your heaven is gone; a heavier gloom Shuts o’er your head: and, as the thundering stream, Swoln o’er its banks with sudden mountain rain, Sinks from its tumult to a silent brook; 180 So, when the frantic raptures in your breast Subside, you languish into mortal man; You sleep, and waking find yourself undone. For prodigal of life in one rash night You lavish’d more than might support three days. 185 A heavy morning comes; your cares return With tenfold rage. An anxious stomach well May be endur’d; so may the throbbing head: But such a dim delirium, such a dream, Involves you; such a dastardly despair 190 Unmans your soul, as madd’ning Pentheus felt When, baited round Citheron’s cruel sides, He saw two suns, and double Thebes ascend. You curse the sluggish Port; you curse the wretch, The felon, with unnatural mixture first 195 Who dar’d to violate the virgin Wine. Or on the fugitive Champain you pour A thousand curses; for to heav’n your soul It rapt, to plunge you deeper in despair. Perhaps you rue even that divinest gift, 200 The gay, serene, good-natur’d Burgundy, Or the fresh fragrant vintage of the Rhine: And with that heaven from mortals had withheld The grape, and all intoxicating bowls. Besides, it wounds you sore to recollect 205 What follies in your loose unguarded hour Escap’d. By one irrevocable word, Perhaps that meant no harm, you lose a friend. Or in the rage of wine your hasty hand Performs a deed to haunt you to your grave. 210 Add that your means, your health, your parts decay; Your friends avoid you; brutishly transform’d They hardly know you; or if one remains To wish you well, he wishes you in heaven. Despis’d, unwept you fall; who might have left 215 A sacred, cherish’d, sadly-pleasing name; A name still to be utter’d with a sigh. Your last ungraceful scene has quite effac’d All sense and memory of your former worth.