QUAE NOCENT DOCENT[7:1]

Oh! might my ill-past hours return again! No more, as then, should Sloth around me throw Her soul-enslaving, leaden chain! No more the precious time would I employ In giddy revels, or in thoughtless joy, 5 A present joy producing future woe. But o'er the midnight Lamp I'd love to pore, I'd seek with care fair Learning's depths to sound, And gather scientific Lore: Or to mature the embryo thoughts inclin'd, 10 That half-conceiv'd lay struggling in my mind, The cloisters' solitary gloom I'd round. 'Tis vain to wish, for Time has ta'en his flight— For follies past be ceas'd the fruitless tears: Let follies past to future care incite. 15 Averse maturer judgements to obey Youth owns, with pleasure owns, the Passions' sway, But sage Experience only comes with years.