Classic Poem

In life's gay morn, while undepress'd by grief,
The heart quick vibrates to the sense of joy;
And mounting vig'rous, yet uncheck'd by care,
Th' exulting spirits kindle in the eye —
If much of fancy's quivering flame be thine,
What hand shall guide that wild, unsteady light,
Which oft the young advent'rer leads astray,
And, like the dancing meteor of the night,
But dazzles and confounds the mental sight.

Oh! let it not thy heedless steps decoy
To where intemp'rance holds her giddy reign;
Though wit and mirth invite thee to her shrine,
Though sense and genius join th' attendant train:
For ah! if thou possess a feeling heart,
And warm affections, and a generous mind,
How keen will be the pangs that heart must feel,
When from the long delirium wak'd, to find
Remorse, despair, and penury behind.

And if that vivid light intensely shine
On female beauty, height'ning every charm;
Does her fair form give raptures of delight,
Does her enchanting smile thy bosom warm —
Oh! do not seek by base deceitful arts,
That unsuspecting beauty to betray:
The cruel deed would haunt thy nightly dreams;
And conscience, arm'd with vengeance to repay,
Would rise in terror some succeeding day.

And ah! beware that fatal love of play,
Which madly prompts th' incautious wretch to try
Stake after stake, until his all depends
Upon the dang'rous hazard of the die:
Driven to distraction when that all is lost,
His 'wilder'd senses make a dreadful pause;
Reflection adds fresh horror to his thoughts;
And rous'd to phrenzy, he resolves to close,
By one rash act, his being and his woes.

Think not the moral muse's lay severe,
Which bounds prescribes to youth's impetuous fires:
Too ardent, too unthinking to be wise;
Each novel scene awakes their warm desires —
The forms of pleasure eager they pursue —
They fear no danger, no deceit they dread,
Nor stop to think where the wild chace will end,
Till unawares the paths of guilt they tread,
And misery hangs impending o'er their head.

Yet, not in vain within the youthful breast
The fire of fancy glows, let reason guide
Its wav'ring light, direct it where to shine,
And point its beams to truth and virtue's side:
For ah! how lost is the mistaken youth,
How lost to future fortune and to fame,
Who gives to vice his best his earliest years —
Lost to each gen'rous wish, each nobler aim,
Ruin his steps attends, dishonour marks his name.