The New York Packet

POET'S CORNER.

On Health.

The subject of my song is HEALTH,
A good superior far to wealth.
Can the young mind distrust its worth?
Consult the monarchs of the earth:
Imperial Czars, and Sultans own
No gem so bright that decks their throne
Each for this pearl his crown would quit
And turn a rustic, or a cit.
Mark, tho' the blessing's lost with ease
'Tis not recover'd when you please:
Say not that cruel's thrall avail,
For salutary gruells fail,
Say not Apollo's sons succeed,
Apollo's sons is Egypt's breed.
How faithless the physician still;
How vain the penitential pill,
The marble monuments proclaim,
The humbler turf confirms the same!
Prevention is the better care:
So says the proverb, and 'tis sure:
Would you extend your narrow span,
And make the most of life you can;
Would you when medicines cannot save
Descend with ease into the grave;
Calmly retire, like evening light,
And cheerful bid the world good night;
Let temperance constantly preside,
Our best physician, friend and guide!
Would you to wisdom make pretence.
Proud to be thought a man of sense;
Let temp'rance (always friend to fame)
With steady hand direct your aim;
Or, like an archer in the dark,
Your random shaft will miss the mark:
For they who slight her golden rules,
In wisdom's volume stand for fools.

* In allusion to 2 Kings, Ch. xviii, 21.