She hush'd her young resentment, and forgave;

Or, if my muse a pedant's portrait drew,
POMPOSUS' virtues are but known to few:
I never fear'd the young usurper's nod,
And he who wields must sometimes feel the
rod.

If since on Granta's failings, known to all
Who share the converse of a college hall,
She sometimes trifled in a lighter strain,
'Tis past, and thus she will not sin again,
Soon must her early song for ever cease,
And all may rail when I shall rest in

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peace.

In scatter'd groups each favour'd haunt pursue;

Repeat old pastimes and discover new; Flush'd with his rays, beneath the noontide

sun

In rival bands between the wickets run, 130 Drive o'er the sward the ball with active force,

Or chase with nimble feet its rapid course. But these with slower steps direct their way

Where Brent's cool waves in limpid currents stray;

While yonder few search out some green retreat,

And arbours shade them from the summer heat.

Others, again, a pert and lively crew, Some rough and thoughtless stranger placed in view,

With frolic quaint their antic jests expose, And tease the grumbling rustic as he goes; Nor rest with this, but many a passing fray Tradition treasures for a future day: "T was here the gather'd swains for vengeance fought,

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And here we earn'd the conquest dearly bought;

Here have we fled before superior might, And here renew'd the wild tumultuous fight.'

While thus our souls with early passions

swell,

In lingering tones resounds the distant bell; Th' allotted hour of daily sport is o'er, And Learning beckons from her temple's door.

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While thus they speak, the hour must soon arrive,

When names of these, like ours, alone survive:

Yet a few years, one general wreck will whelm

The faint remembrance of our fairy realm.

Dear honest race! though now we meet

no more,

One last long look on what we were before— Our first kind greetings, and our last adieu

Drew tears from eyes unused to weep with

you.

Through splendid circles, fashion's gaudy world,

Where folly's glaring standard waves unfurl'd,

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I plunged to drown in noise my fond regret, And all I sought or hoped was to forget. Vain wish! if chance some well-remember'd face,

Some old companion of my early race, Advanced to claim his friend with honest joy,

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The tender guidance of a father's care.
Can rank, or e'en a guardian's name, supply
The love which glistens in a father's eye?
For this can wealth or title's sound atone,
Made, by a parent's early loss, my own?
What brother springs a brother's love to
seek?

What sister's gentle kiss has prest my cheek?

For me how dull the vacant moments rise, To no fond bosom link'd by kindred ties! Oft in the progress of some fleeting dream Fraternal smiles collected round me seem; While still the visions to my heart are prest,

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The voice of love will murmur in my rest: