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The Sons of science, these, who, thus repaid,
Linger in ease, in Granta's sluggish shade;
Where on Cam's sedgy banks, supine, they lie,
Unknown, unhonour'd live,-unwept for, die;
Dull as the pictures which adorn their halls,
They think all learning fix'd within their walls;
In manners rude, in foolish forms precise,
All modern arts affecting to despise;

Yet prizing BENTLEY'S, BRUNCK'S (1), or PORSON's (2) note,
More than the verse on which the critic wrote;
Vain as their honours, heavy as their Ale,
Sad as their wit, and tedious as their tale,
To friendship dead, though not untaught to feel,
When Self and Church demand a bigot zeal.
With eager haste, they court the lord of power,
Whether 'tis PITT or P-TTY rules the hour (3):
To him, with suppliant smiles, they bend the head,
While distant mitres to their eyes are spread;
But should a storm o'erwhelm him with disgrace,
They'd fly to seek the next, who fill'd his place :
Such are the men who learning's treasures guard,
Such is their practice, such is their reward;
This much, at least, we may presume to say;
The premium cann't exceed the price they pay.

(1) Celebrated Critics.

1806.

(2) The present Greek Professor at Trinity College, Cambridge; a man, whose powers of mind and writings, may, perhaps justify their preference.

(3) Since this was written, Lord H. P- -y has lost his place, and subsequently (I had almost said consEQUENTLY), the honour of representing the University; a fact so glaring requires no comment.

TO THE EARL OF

Tu semper amoris

<< Sis memor, et cari comitis ne abscedat Imago. »

I.

VALERIUS FLaccus.

FRIEND of my youth! when young we roy'd,
Like striplings mutually belov'd,

With Friendship's purest glow;

The bliss which wing'd those rosy hours
Was such as pleasure seldom showers
On mortals here below.

2.

The recollection seems,

alone,

Dearer than all the joys I've known,
When distant far from you;

Though pain, 'tis still a pleasing pain,
To trace those days and hours again,
And sigh again, adieu!

3.

My pensive mem❜ry lingers o'er
Those scenes to be enjoy'd no more,
Those scenes regretted ever;

The measure of our youth is full,

Life's evening dream is dark and dull,

And we may meet-ah! never!

4.

As when one parent spring supplies

Two streams, which from one fountain rise,
Together join'd in vain;

How soon, diverging from their source,
Each, murmuring, seeks another course,
Till mingled in the main.

5.

Our vital streams of weal or woe,
Though near, alas! distinctly flow,
Nor mingle as before;

Now swift or slow, now black or clear,
Till death's unfathom'd gulph appear,
And both shall quit the shore.

6.

Our souls, my Friend! which once supplied
One wish, nor breath'd a thought beside,
Now flow in different channels;

Disdaining humbler rural sports,
'Tis yours to mix in polish'd courts,
And shine in Fashion's annals.

7.

'Tis mine to waste on love my time,
Or vent my reveries in rhyme,
Without the aid of Reason;

For Sense and Reason, (critics know it,)
Have quitted every amorous poet,
Nor left a thought to seize on.

8.

Poor LITTLE! sweet, melodious bard!
Of late esteem'd it monstrous hard,
That he, who sang before all;
He who the love of love expanded,
By dire Reviewers should be branded,
As void of wit and moral (1).

9.

And yet, while beauty's praise is thine,
Harmonious favourite of the Nine!
Repine not at thy lot;
Thy soothing lays may still be read,
When Persecution's arm is dead,
And critics are forgot.

10.

Still, I must yield those worthies merit,
Who chasten, with unsparing spirit,

Bad rhymes, and those who write them;

And though myself may be the next,
By critic sarcasm to be vext,

I really will not fight them (2);

(1) These stanzas were written soon after the appearance of a severe critique in a Northern review, on a new publication of the British Anacreon.

(2) A Bard, (Horresco referens,) defied his reviewer to mortal combat. If this example becomes prevalent, our periodical censors must be dipt in the river Styx; for what else can secure them from the numerous host of their enged assailants.

II.

Perhaps, they would do quite as well,
To break the rudely sounding shell
Of such a young beginner;

He who offends at pert nineteen,

Ere thirty may become, I ween,

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Now

-I must return to you,

And sure apologies are due,

Accept then my concession;

In truth, dear, in fancy's flight,
I soar along from left to right,
My Muse admires digression.

13.

I think, I said, 'twould be your fate
To add one star to royal state,

May regal smiles attend you;

And should a noble Monarch reign,
You will not seek his smiles in vain,
If worth can recommend you.

14.

Yet, since in danger courts abound,
Where specious rivals glitter round,

From snares may saints preserve you; And grant, your love or friendsip ne'er From claim a kindred care,

any

But those who best deserve you.

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