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51

III. SONNET. To a dissolute character.

Who that can breathe the fragrant air of day
Delighted roves beneath nocturnal skies,
When chilling dews, and noisome vapours rise:
Who but a wretch like thee to vice a prey?
Ah, thou canst spurn immortal beauty's sway!
Endearing looks, pure blushes, tender sighs,
Not all the melting eloquence of eyes
From senseless revellers thy steps delay,
Who hail thee Lord, and bow to thy behest.
Wilt thou for this love's sacred rites forego,
Licentious monarch of the ribbald jest?
Vain as thy rival, man's insensate foe,
Who proudly scorn'd obedience with the blest,
To reign in realms of death and endless woe.