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.
Damaetas 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.’