But how? refides fuch virtue in that air That candidates for fuch a prize should feel, In all true worth and literary fkill? "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 Latinifts profess'd. "Th' exalted prize demands an upward look, "Not to be found by poring on a book. "Small skill in Latin, and still lefs in Greek, "Is more than adequate to all I feek; "Let erudition grace him or not grace, "I give the bawble but the fecond place, "His wealth, fame, honors, all that I intend, "Subfift and center in one point-a friend. "A friend, whate'er he ftudies or neglects, "Shall give him confequence, heal all defects, • His "His intercourfe with peers, and fons of peers "There dawns the fplendour of his future years, "In that bright quarter his propitious skies "Let rev'rend churls his ignorance rebuke, In barb'rous prostitution of your fon, Prefs'd on his part by means that would difgrace The The wretch fhall rife, and be the thing on earth In which the best and worthieft tremble most. The royal letters are a thing of course, A king that would, might recommend his horfe, As bound in duty, would confirm the choice. A flave at court, elsewhere a lady's man, A piece of mere church-furniture at best; Depend not much upon your golden dream; The hallow'd bench from abfolute contempt, In spite of all the wrigglers into place, Still keeps a feat or two for worth and grace; Of habit, inclination, temper, taste, And he that feem'd our counterpart at first, Soon shows the strong fimilitude revers'd. Young heads are giddy, and young hearts are warm, And make mistakes for manhood to reform. Boys are at beft but pretty buds unblown, Whofe fcent and hues are rather guefs'd than known; Each dreams that each is juft what he appears, But learns his error in maturer years, When difpofition, like a fail unfurl'd, Shows all its rents and patches to the world. If therefore, ev'n when honeft in defign, A boyish friendship may fo foon decline, 'Twere wiser fure t' infpire a little heart With just abhorrence of fo mean a part, Than fet your fon to work at a vile trade fo unlikely to be paid. For wages Our public hives of puerile refort, To fuch bafe hopes, in many a fordid soul, A principle, whose proud pretenfions pafs Contributes moft perhaps t' inhance their fame, Boys |