The poem
In law an infant, and in years a boy, In mind a slave to every vicious joy; From every sense of shame and virtue wean'd; In lies an adept, in deceit a fiend; Versed in hypocrisy, while yet a child; Fickle as wind, of inclinations wild; Women his dupe, his heedless friend a tool; Old in the world, though scarcely broke from school; Damætas ran through all the maze of sin, And found the goal when others just begin: Even still conflicting passions shake his soul, And bid him drain the dregs of pleasure's bowl; But, pall'd with vice, he breaks his former chain, And what was once his bliss appears his bane.