AS two young Bears, in wanton mood,
Forth issuing from a neighhouring wood.
Came where the industrious Bees had stored,
In artful cells, their luscious hoard;
O'erjoyed, they seized with eager haste,
Luxurious, on the rich repast.
Alarmed at this, the little crew
About their ears vindictive flew.
The beasts, unable to sustain
The unequal combat, quit the plain;
Half blind with rage and mad with pain,
Their native shelter they regain;
There sit, and now discreeter grown.
Too late their rashness they bemoan;
And this, by dear experience, gain:—
That pleasure's ever bought with pain.
So, when the gilded baits of vice
Are placed before our longing eyes.
With greedy haste we snatch our fill
And swallow down the latent ill:
But when experience opes our eyes, Away the fancied pleasure flies.
It flies, but, oh! too late we find
It leaves a real sting behind.