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“ Here Ignorance, and Hunger fell, “ Two foes in one, I sent to Hell! " Ye poets, who my labours see, “ Come share the triumph all with me! “ Ye critics ! born to vex the Muse, “ To mourn the grand ally you lose.”
A YOUNG GENTLEMAN, ON HIS LEAVING
BY DR. ROBERTS.
SINCE now a nobler scene awakes thy care,
Yet think not I will deign to flatter thee: Shall he, the guardian of thy faith and truth,
The guide, the pilot of thy tender years,
Say, gentle youth, remember'st thou the day When o'er thy tender shoulders first I hung The golden lyre, and taught thy trembling hand. To touch th' accordant strings? From that blest
hour I've seen thee panting up the hill of fame; Thy little heart beat high with honest praise, Thy cheek was Alush'd, and oft thy sparkling eye Shot flames of young ambition. Never quench That generous ardour in thy virtuous breast. Sweet is the concord of harmonious sounds, When the soft lute or pealing organ strikes The well-attemper'd ear; sweet is the breath
Of honest love, when nymph and gentle swain
On ev'ry object through the giddy world Which fashion to the dazzled eye presents, Fresh is the gloss of newness; look, dear youth, O look, but not admire ! O let not these Raze from thy noble heart the fair records Which youth and education planted there! Let not affection's full, impetuous tide, Which riots in thy generous breast, be check'd By selfish cares ; nor let the idle jeers Of laughing fools make thee forget thyself. When didst thou hear a tender tale of woe,
And feel thy heart at rest? Have I not seen
path Sustain'd thy feeble steps ; whose every wish Is wafted still to thee; remember those, Even in thy heart, while memory holds her seat; And oft as to thy mind thou shalt recall The sweet companions of thy earliest years, Mates of thy sport, and rivals in the strife Of every generous art, remember me!