That mediocrity alone

Without disgust we look upon?

X.

Happy he who in youth was young,

Happy who timely grew mature,

He who life's frosts which early wrung

Hath gradually learnt to endure;

By visions who was ne'er deranged

Nor from the mob polite estranged,

At twenty who was prig or swell,

At thirty who was married well,

At fifty who relief obtained

From public and from private ties,

Who glory, wealth and dignities

Hath tranquilly in turn attained,

And unto whom we all allude

As to a worthy man and good!

XI.

But sad is the reflection made,

In vain was youth by us received,

That we her constantly betrayed

And she at last hath us deceived;

That our desires which noblest seemed,

The purest of the dreams we dreamed,

Have one by one all withered grown

Like rotten leaves by Autumn strown -

'Tis fearful to anticipate

Nought but of dinners a long row,

To look on life as on a show,

Eternally to imitate

The seemly crowd, partaking nought

Its passions and its modes of thought.

XII.

The butt of scandal having been,

'Tis dreadful - ye agree, I hope -