Our early notices of truth, disgrac'd,

Soon lose their credit, and are all effac'd.

Would you your son should be a sot or dunce, Lascivious, headstrong; or all these at once; That, in good time, the stripling's finish'd taste For loose expense and fashionable waste

Should

prove your ruin and his own at last;
Train him in public with a mob of boys,
Childish in mischief only and in noise,
Else of a mannish growth, and five in ten
In infidelity and lewdness men.

There shall he learn, ere sixteen winters old,
That authors are most useful pawn'd or sold;
That pedantry is all that schools impart,

But taverns teach the knowledge of the heart; There waiter Dick, with Bacchanalian lays, Shall win his heart, and have his drunken praise, His counsellor and bosom-friend shall prove, And some street-pacing harlot his first love.

Schools, unless discipline were doubly strong,
Detain their adolescent charge too long;

The management of tiros of eighteen
Is difficult, their punishment obscene.
The stout tall captain, whose superior size
The minor heroes view with envious eyes,
Becomes their pattern, upon whom they fix
Their whole attention, and ape all his tricks.
His pride, that scorns t' obey or to submit,
With them is courage; his effront'ry wit.
His wild excursions, window-breaking feats,
Robb'ry of gardens, quarrels in the streets,
His hair-breadth 'scapes, and all his daring schemes,
Transport them, and are made their fav'rite themes.
In little bosoms such achievements strike
A kindred spark; they burn to do the like.
Thus, half-accomplish'd ere he yet begin

To show the peeping down upon his chin;
And, as maturity of years comes on,

Made just th' adept that you design'd your son;

T' ensure the perseverance of his course,
And give your monstrous project all its force,
Send him to college. If he there be tam'd,
Or in one article of vice reclaim'd,

Where no regard of ord'nances is shown

Or look'd for now, the fault must be his own.
Some sneaking virtue lurks in him, no doubt,
Where neither strumpets' charms, nor drinking-
bout,

Nor gambling practices, can find it out.
Such youths of spirit, and that spirit too,

Ye nurs❜ries of our boys, we owe to you!
Though from ourselves the mischief more proceeds,
For public schools 'tis public folly feeds.

The slaves of custom and establish'd mode,
With pack-horse constancy we keep the road,
Crooked or straight, through quags or thorny dells,
True to the jingling of our leaders bells.
To follow foolish precedents, and wink

With both our eyes, is easier than to think:

And such an age as our's balks no expense,
Except of caution and of common-sense;

Else, sure, notorious fact and proof so plain
Would turn our steps into a wiser train.

I blame not those who with what care they can
O'erwatch the num'rous and unruly clan;
Or, if I blame, 'tis only that they dare
Promise a work of which they must despair.
Have ye, ye sage intendants of the whole,
An ubiquarian presence and control-
Elisha's eye, that, when Gehazi stray'd,

Went with him, and saw all the game

he play'd?

Yes-ye are conscious; and on all the shelves

Your pupils strike upon, have struck yourselves.

Or, if by nature sober, ye had then,

Boys as ye were, the gravity of men;

Ye knew at least, by constant proofs address'd

To ears and eyes, the vices of the rest.
But ye connive at what ye cannot cure,
And evils not to be endur'd, endure,

Lest pow'r exerted, but without success,
Should make the little ye retain still less.
Ye once were justly fam'd for bringing forth
Undoubted scholarship and genuine worth;

And in the firmament of fame still shines

A glory, bright as that of all the signs,
Of poets rais'd by you, and statesmen, and divines.
Peace to them all! those brilliant times are fled,
And no such lights are kindling in their stead.
Our striplings shine, indeed, but with such rays
As set the midnight riot in a blaze;

And seem, if judg'd by their expressive looks,
Deeper in none than in their surgeons' books.

Say, muse, (for, education made the song, No muse can hesitate or linger long) What causes move us, knowing, as we must, That these menageries all fail their trust, To send our sons to scout and scamper there, While colts and puppies cost us so much care?