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Hard fate! but often to this blifsful day,

Thro' the dull glooms of time, his wishes stray;
And, as the stick its lefs'ning notches fhews,

His gladden'd heart forgets its load of woes.
Again, to prove the fad allusion true,
The grate-like windows of our prifon view.

Does the full day-light hurt a school-boy's brain,
That thus it ftruggles thro' th' encrufted pane?

Why do thofe * envious walls the light exclude ?———
Why-truth and day-light wou'd too much intrude;
Then would the tell-tale fun, or curious eye,

This scene of shame, and fear, and grief defcry.

Frown not, my worthy audience, at my prating: This phrase of gaol-deliv'ry, tho' so grating,

I'll

* Many of the fchool windows have been reduced to less than half

of their original fize.

I'll hold it valid beyond all denial;

For fome of us are brought to take our trial.

See there my fellow-culprits in their places:
Ah! how fufpenfe and terror mark their faces!
Bad symptoms these ! but fure, the breaft of youth
No inmate knows, fave innocence and truth.
If put on their defence, they foon wou'd say,
That not their guilt, but you their fouls dismay,
That honeft fears, which this dread court imparts,
Blanch their young cheeks, and flutter at their hearts.
Hear them, however: for they'll come before ye,
Imploring mercy from their † judge and jury.

EPI

Bishop Porteus, who was prefent.

EPILOGUE,

SPOKEN BY A YOUNG GENTLEMAN, WHO WAS GOING TO COLLEGE, 1787.

K

IND friends! I come to pay my last adieu :

For much I owe to you, and || you, and § you.

No more I sportive tread this well-worn floor,

Or con in order prim the learned lore;

Careful to prove, with anatomic art,

How grammar-concords fit each little part;
Or fcorning tense and cafe, embrace the quill,
And climb with meafur'd feet Parnaffus' hill.
Hard tafk, I ween, to ftep with native cafe
To the foft cadence of Ovidian lays,

And build, by Lily's rules, the founding line!
For how can Lily give the energy divine?

P

Yet

The audience. The mafter. The boys.

Yet have the beauties of the claffic page

Oft charm'd the wand'rings of my thoughtless age,

Rapt me from Deva's banks to Mantuan plains,
To hear in beechen fhades the loves of fwains;

Oft too, by Homer and by fancy led,

I join'd with heroes at the battle's head,

And grew a demi-hero as I read.

Sweet bards, I charge on you no irksome toil : Your magic ftrains e'en school-boy-cares beguile : And when in Cambria, or by Ifis' ftream I rove, your praises be my conftant theme. Yet, ere I hafte these hallow'd feats to leave, Ye, gen'rous partners of my toil, receive, What my warm heart will ever aim to prove, A brother's wishes, and a brother's love.

Go on in virtue's paths; dare to be wife, So Horace fays, and well does he advise :

Mind not the Syren Eafe; her promis'd joy

Is mis'ry; fhe invites, but to destroy.

No more with you I take my station here,

23

To play the youthful orator once a year;

No more, with ftraining lungs and beating heart,

To this fair groupe a labour'd speech impart.

Dear youths, farewel! tho' hope may

fire my

mind

With gaudier views, regret will look behind,
Will leave one pray'r for all, that all may know
Each blifs, that heav'n and virtue can beftow.

TRANSLATIONS

FROM THE CONSOLATION OF PHILOSOPHY,

I,

BY BOETHIUS.

Who erewhile in sprightly numbers fung,

Now tune my notes to elegiac woe;

In

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