TAKINGS. CANTO I. I. WHEN gay Tom Takeall-that's a pretty nameWe bards alliteration dearly love, From Oxford to his father's mansion came, The Senior found his pride begin to move To see a sprig so comely, so well grown, That he might confidently call his own. II. It was not merely that the stripling now Could look down on his venerable dad, That smooth'd the furrows on the father's brow, Made his eye glisten, and his bosom glad; His heart was of unusual joy the seat, Because Tom's education was complete. III. And be it to our hero's credit stated, That he acquired in his pursuit of knowledge As much as half the youngsters who are fated To seek refined accomplishments at College, For though the classics he pronounced a bore, His exercises he would ne'er give o'er. IV. 'Tis true he did not labour very hard To make himself proficient in the Greek, Nor had the Latin much of his regard; "The living tongues," said he, "I wish to speak. Why talk like nations to oblivion fled? The Devil take the language of the dead." མ. Now, though in this way, as remarked above, He did at best but moderately well; He failed not in some instances to prove, By Nature he was fitted to excel: In those pursuits which once engaged his mind, VI. Riding of these was one, and Tom could ride VII. Moreover, Takeall on the coachman's seat, Could swear and bawl with all the Jehu gang; And then the spruce Collegian to complete, He had a pretty smattering of slang. Of one so learned, when from College brought, VIII. But fathers never think enough is done, Like Swedish Charles, 'till nought remains to do, When fixed their purpose that a favourite son The paths of wealth and wisdom should pursue They, when professors have done all they can Must undertake to finish off the man. |