ON QUITTING SCHOOL FOR COLLEGE FAREWELL parental scenes! a sad farewell! To you my grateful heart still fondly Tho' Those Hours on rapid Pinions flown clings, Her tales of future Joy Hope loves to tell. Ah! would those happy days return again, 1 Empress of Russia. The Moon, that oft from Heaven retires, What though she leave the sky unblest 1791. PHILEDON O, curas hominum! O, quantum est in rebus inane! THE fervid Sun had more than halved the day, When gloomy on his couch Philedon lay; His feeble frame consumptive as his purse, His aching head did wine and women curse; His fortune ruin'd and his wealth decay'd, Clamorous his duns, his gaming debts unpaid, The youth indignant seized his tailor's bill, And on its back thus wrote with moral quill: Various as colours in the rainbow shown, Or similar in emptiness alone, ΙΟ Infirm of soul! who think'st to lift thy name Upon the waxen wings of human fame,— Who for a sound, articulated breathGazest undaunted in the face of death! 30 What art thou but a Meteor's glaring light Blazing a moment and then sunk in night? Caprice which raised thee high shall hurl thee low, Or envy blast the laurels on thy brow. To such poor joys could ancient Honour lead When empty fame was toiling Merit's meed; To Modern Honour other lays belong; Profuse of joy and Lord of right and wrong, Honour can game, drink, riot in the stew, How false, how vain are Man's pursuits Cut a friend's throat;—what cannot possest: 'Twas Brookes's all till two, - 'twas Hackett's all the rest! [Cambridge.] ON IMITATION 70 1791. Where first his infant buds appear; With foot advanced and anxious heart At low Pride's frequent frowns to sigh, 30 'The scene is changed and Fortune's gale Shall belly out each prosperous sail. Yet sudden wealth full well I know Did never happiness bestow. That wealth to which we were not born ALL are not born to soar-and ah! how Dooms us to sorrow or to scorn. But sounds that variously express, What's thine already-Happiness! 'Tis thine the converse deep to hold With all the famous sons of old; And thine the happy waking dream While Hope pursues some favourite theme, 80 As oft when Night o'er Heaven is spread, 90 'One blessing more demands thy care : Once more to Heaven address the prayer: A CHRISTMAS TALE, TOLD BY A SCHOOL-BOY TO HIS LITTLE BROTHERS AND SISTERS UNDERNEATH a huge oak tree One acorn they left, and no more might you spy. Next came a Raven, that liked not such folly: He belonged, they did say, to the witch Melancholy! Blacker was he than blackest jet, Flew low in the rain, and his feathers not wet. 10 |