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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.”

EPISTLE

TO

A YOUNG GENTLEMAN, ON HIS LEAVING

ETON SCHOOL.

BY DR. ROBERTS.

SINCE now a nobler scene awakes thy care,
Since manhood dawning, to fair Granta's tow'rs,
Where once in life's gay spring I lov'd to roam,
Invites thy willing steps; accept, dear youth,
This parting strain ; accept the fervent pray's
Of him who loves thee with a passion pure
As ever Friendship dropp'd in human heart;
The prayer, that he who guides the hand of youth
Through all the puzzled and perplexed round
Of life's meand'ring path, upon thy head
May shower down every blessing, every joy
Which health, which virtue, and which fame can

give!

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,
Teach thy young heart to feel a spurious glow
At undeserved praise ? Perish the slave
Whose venal breath in youth's unpractis'd ear
Pours poison'd flattery, and corrupts the soul
With vain conceit; whose base ungenerous art
Fawns on the vice, which some with honest hand
Have torn for ever from the bleeding breast !

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
Waft sighs alternate to each other's heart:
But not the concord of harmonious sounds,
When the soft lute or pealing organ strikes
The well-attemper'd ear; nor the sweet breath
Of honest love, when nymph and gentle swain
Waft sighs alternate to each other's heart,
So charm with ravishment the raptur'd sense,
As does the voice of well-deserv'd report
Strike with sweet melody the conscious soul.

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
In thy swoln eye the tear of sympathy,
The milk of human kindness? When didst thou,
With envy rankling, hear a rival prais’d?
When didst thou slight the wretched? When

despise
The modest humble suit of poverty?
These virtues still be thine ; nor ever learn
To look with cold eye on the charities
Of brother, or of parents; think on those
Whose anxious care thro' childhood's slippery

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!

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