Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise; We love the play-place of our early daysThe scene is touching, and the heart is stone That feels not at that sight, and feels at none. The wall on which we tried our graving skill, The very name we carv'd, subsisting still; The bench on which we sat while deep employ'd, Playing our games, and on the very spot; Such recollection of our own delights, That, viewing it, we seem almost t' obtain This fond attachment to the well-known place, Whence first we started into life's long race, Maintains its hold with such unfailing sway, We feel it ev'n in age, and at our latest day. With his own likeness plac'd on either knee, And tells them, as he strokes their silver locks, That palliates deeds of folly and of shame) He gives the local bias all its sway; Resolves that where he play'd his sons shall play, And destines their bright genius to be shown Just in the scene where he display'd his own. The meek and bashful boy will soon be taught To be as bold and forward as he ought; The rude will scuffle through with ease enough, Great schools suit best the sturdy and the rough. Ah, happy designation, prudent choice, The great, indeed, by titles, riches, birth, Excus'd th' incumbrance of more solid worth, Are best dispos'd of where with most success They may acquire that confident address, Those habits of profuse and lewd expense, That scorn of all delights but those of sense, Which, though in plain plebeians we condemn, With so much reason all expect from them. But families of less illustrious fame, Whose chief distinction is their spotless name, Whose heirs, their honours none, their income small, Must shine by true desert, or none at all- And, while the playful jockey scours the room In fancy sees him more superbly ride In coach with purple lin'd, and mitres on its side. Events improbable and strange as these, Which only a parental eye foresees, A public school shall bring to pass with ease. But how! resides such virtue in that air As must create an appetite for pray'r? And will it breathe into him all the zeal That candidates for such a prize should feel, In all true worth and literary skill? 66 Ah, blind to bright futurity, untaught The knowledge of the world, and dull of thought! “Church-ladders are not always mounted best By learned clerks and Latinists profess' d. "Th' exalted prize demands an upward look, "Not to be found by poring on a book. "Small skill in Latin, and still less in Greek, "Is more than adequate to all I seek. "Let erudition grace him or not grace, "I give the bauble but the second place; "His wealth, fame, honours, all that I intend, "Subsist and centre in one point-a friend! "A friend, whate'er he studies or neglects, "Shall give him consequence, heal all defects. |