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Now flush'd with drunk'ness, now with whoredom

pale, Their breath a sample of last night's regale; See volunteers in all the vilest arts, Men well endow'd, of honourable parts, Design’d by nature wise, but self-made fools; All these, and more like these, were bred at


And, if it chance, as sometimes chance it will,

That, though school-bred, the boy be virtuous still;
Such rare exceptions, shining in the dark,
Prove, rather than impeach, the just remark;
As here and there a twinkling star descried
Serves but to show how black is all beside.

Now look on him, whose very voice in tone

Just echoes thine, whose features are thine own,
And stroke his polish'd cheek of purest red,
And lay thine hand upon his flaxen head,
And say—My boy, th' unwelcome hour is come,
When thou, transplanted from thy genial home,

Must find a colder soil and bleaker air,

And trust for safety to a stranger's care; What character, what turn thou wilt assume

From constant converse with I know not whom;

Who there will court thy friendship, with what


And, artless as thou art, whom thou wilt choose;

Though much depends on whát thy choice shall


Is all chance medley, and unknown to me.-
Can'st thou, the tear just trembling on thy lids,
And while the dreadful risque foreseen forbids;
Free, too, and under no constraining force,
Unless the sway of custom warp thy course;
Lay such a stake upon the losing side,
Merely to gratify so blind a guide?
Thou can'st not! Nature, pulling at thine heart,
Condemns th' unfatherly, th' imprudent part.
Thou would'st not, deaf to Nature's tend'rest plea,
Turn him adrift upon a rolling sea,

Nor say, Go thither, conscious that there lay
A brood of asps, or quicksands in his way;
Then, only govern’d by the self-same rule
Of nat'ral pity, send him not to school.
No-guard him better. Is he not thine own,
Thyself in miniature, thy flesh, thy bone?
And hop'st thou not ('tis ev'ry father's hope)
That, since thy strength must with thy years elope,
And thou wilt need some comfort to

Health's last farewell, a staff of thine old age,
That then, in recompense of all thy cares,
Thy child shall show respect to thy gray hairs,
Befriend thee, of all other friends bereft,
And give thy life its only cordial left?
Aware then how much danger intervenes,
To compass that good end, forecast the means.
His heart, now passive, yields to thy command;--
Secure in thine, its key is in thine hand.
If thou desert thy charge, and throw it wide,
Nor heed what guests there enter and abide,

Complain not if attachments lewd and base
Supplant thee in it, and usurp thy place.
But, if thou guard its sacred chambers sure
From vicious inmates and delights impure,
Either his gratitude shall hold him fast,
And keep him warm and filial to the last;
Or, if he prove unkind (as who can say
But, being man, and therefore frail, he may?)
One comfort yet shall cheer thine aged heart,
Howe'er he slight thee, thou hast done thy part.

Oh barb'rous! would'st thou with a Gothic hand Pull down the schools —what!-all the schools

i' th' land;

Or throw them up to liv'ry-nags and grooms,
Or turn them into shops and auction rooms?
A captious question, fir, (and your's is one)
Deserves an answer similar, or none...
Would'st thou, possessor of a flock, employ
(Appriz’d that he is such) a careless boy,

And feed him well, and give him handsome pay,
Merely to sleep, and let them run astray?
Survey our schools and colleges, and see
A sight not much unlike


simile. From education, as the leading cause, The public character its colour draw.s; Thence the prevailing manners take their cast, Extravagant or sober, loose or chaste. And, though I would not advertise them yet, Nor write on each-This Building to be Let, Unless the world were all prepar'd t' embrace A plan well worthy to supply their place; Yet, backward as they are, and long have been, To cultivate and keep the MORALS clean, (Forgive the crime) I wish them, I confess, Or better manag'd, or encourag'd less.

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