In seeking pleasure, I have tasted woe;
And drunk of every cup, to test its worth:
Ill sediments must, in such seeking, flow
And mingle with the thoughts that gave them birth:
Who drinks experience, drinks, at once, disdain;
From weariness, Excitement gathers force,
Then swerves not for slight barriers, nor draws rein,
Till all his passion’s wreak’d upon the course:
The course is finished; hollow is the cup;
Nor may regret point at the looked for dregs:
Who sits the banquet out, at last, must sup
From off satiety’s unfurnished pegs.
’Tis something known, that there is nought to gain;
Each different science prints his proper strain.