YCBA Collections Search

Lettered on facing page: "56 | Ere man has measured half his weary stage, | His luxuries have left him no reserve, | No maiden relishes, unbroach'd delights: | On cold-served repetitions he subsists, | And in the tasteless present chews the past; | Disgusted chews, and scarce can swallow down: | Like lavish ancestors, his earlier years | Have disinherited his future hours, | Which starve on orts, and glean their former field. | Live ever here, LORENZO!--Shocking thought! | So shocking, they who wish, disown it too; | Disown from shame, what they from folly crave. | Live ever in the womb, nor see the light! | For what live ever here?--With labouring step | To tread our former footsteps? pace the round | Eternal? to climb life's worn, heavy wheel, | Which draws up nothing new? to beat and beat | The beaten track? to bid each wretched day | The former mock? to surfeit on the same, | And yawn our joys? or thank a misery | For change, though sad? to see what we have seen? | Hear, till unheard, the same old slabber'd tale? | To taste the tasted, and at each return | Less tasteful? o'er our palates to decant | Another vintage? strain a flatter year, | Through loaded vessels, and a laxer tone? | Crazy machines to grind earth's wasted fruits! | Ill-ground, and worse concocted! load, not life! | The rational foul kennels of excess!"