Youth of delight, come hither, And see the opening morn, Image of truth new-born. Doubt is fled, and
clouds of reason, Dark disputes and artful teasing. Folly is an endless maze, Tangled roots perplex her
ways. How many have fallen there! They stumble all night over bones of the dead, And feel they know not
what but care, And wish to lead others, when they should be led.