Page:Poems - Southey (1799) volume 2.djvu/49

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Of riot, and intemperance-bloated cheek;Some pale and nerveless, and with feeble step,And eyes lack-lustre."Maiden?" said her guide,"These are the wretched slaves of Appetite,Curst with their wish enjoyed. The epicureHere pampers his foul frame, till the pall'd senseLoaths at the banquet; the voluptuous herePlunge in the tempting torrent of delight,And sink in misery. All they wish'd on earth,Possessing here, whom have they to accuse,But their own folly, for the lot they chose?Yet, for that these injured themselves alone,They to the house of Penitence may hie,And, by a long and painful regimen,To wearied Nature her exhausted powersRestore, till they shall learn to form the wishOf wisdom, and Almighty Goodness grantsThat prize to him who seeks it."Whilst he spake,
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