Thus taste the feast by Nature spread,
Ere Youth, and all its joys are fled;
Come, taste with me the balm of life,
Secure from pomp, and wealth, and strife.
I boast, whate'er for man was meant,
In health, and STELLA, and content;
And scorn! oh! let that scorn be thine!
Mere things of clay, that dig the mine.