A BOY ATHEIST. 195 



opinions. The short piece I here insert, with a few sub- 

 sequent alterations, was written in my sixteenth year. 

 You will see in it, confused with a good deal of mytho- 

 logic nonsense, a confession of the school of morals to 

 which I then belonged. What is said of wine and 

 Bacchus, you are to recollect, is mere imitation. 



HOW TO LIVE. 



! free as air, light as the wind, 



Let us spend Life's years away, 

 To coming evil wisely blind, 



Still be glad when glad we may. 

 For what is philosophic lore, 



What the schoolmen's boasted rules ? 

 Go, sound it loud as ocean's roar, 



The cloak of knaves, the boast of fools. 



Bright wine and love shall banish care, 



Pleasure all our thoughts employ, 

 Let Bacchus be our god of prayer, 



Bacchus and the Paphian boy. 

 Let mirthful Mom us, laughing, still 



O'er our harmless feasts preside, 

 And lovely nymphs be there to fill 



The cup to dry grave lips denied. 



Thus years shall pass when age steals on, 

 Ere the last joys of life are gone ; 

 Jocund, let us rise and say 

 Sweet has passed life's stormy day. 

 And when Time strides gravely in, 

 To warn us that our sands have run, 

 Gay, ere fails our latest breath, 

 Let our song be ' Welcome Death.' 

 When life, save pain, can nothing give, 

 When wine disgusts, and cold is love, 

 Eather than live in pain and fear, 

 Welcome the shroud, the grave, the bier ! 



' About a year after I had written this piece, I had 

 several argumentative conversations with my cousin G. 

 on the subject of religion. I boldly and impiously 

 declared to him that I considered it as a cheat, and when 

 he began to support his opinions, which were directly the 



