Elfe of a mannish growth, and five in ten
In infidelity and lewdness men.

There shall he learn, ere fixteen winters old,
That authors are most useful pawn'd or fold;
That pedantry is all that schools impart,

But taverns teach the knowledge of the heart;
There waiter Dick, with Bacchanalian lays,
Shall win his heart, and have his drunken praise,
His counsellor and bofom-friend shall prove,
And fome street-pacing harlot his first love.
Schools, unless discipline were doubly strong,
Detain their adolescent charge too long;
The management of tiros of eighteen
Is difficult, their punishment obfcene.
The ftout tall captain, whose fuperior fize
The minor heroes view with envious eyes,
Becomes their pattern, upon whom they fix
Their whole attention, and ape all his tricks.
His pride, that scorns t' obey or to submit,
With them is courage; his effront'ry wit.
His wild excurfions, window-breaking feats,
Robb'ry of gardens, quarrels in the streets,

His hair-breadth 'fcapes, and all his daring schemes,
Transport them, and are made their fav'rite themes.
In little bofoms fuch achievements ftrike

A kindred spark; they burn to do the like.

Thus, half-accomplish'd ere he yet begin
To fhow the peeping down upon his chin;
And, as maturity of years comes on,

Made just th' adept that you defign'd your fon;
T'enfure the perfeverance of his course,

And give your monstrous project all its force,
Send him to college. If he there be tam'd,
Or in one article of vice reclaim'd,
Where no regard of ord'nances is shown

Or look'd for now, the fault must be his own.
Some fneaking virtue lurks in him, no doubt,
Where neither ftrumpets' charms, nor drinking-bout,
Nor gambling practices, can find it out.

Such youths of fpirit, and that spirit too,
Ye nurs'ries of our boys, we owe to you!
Though from ourselves the mischief more proceeds,
For public schools 'tis public folly feeds.

The flaves of custom and establish'd mode,
With pack-horfe conftancy we keep the road,
Crooked or ftraight, through quags or thorny dells,
True to the jingling of our leaders bells.
To follow foolish precedents, and wink
With both our eyes, is eafier than to think:

And fuch an age as our's baulks no expenfe,
Except of caution and of common-sexfe ;

Elfe, fure, notorious fact and proof so plain
Would turn our fteps into a wiser train.

I blame not those who with what care they can
O'erwatch the num'rous and unruly clan;
Or, if I blame, 'tis only that they dare
Promise a work of which they must despain.
Have ye, ye fage intendants of the whole,
An ubiquarian prefence and controul-
Elifha's eye, that when Gehazi stray'd,

Went with him, and faw all the game he play'd?
Yes-ye are confcious; and on all the shelves
Your pupils ftrike upon have ftruck yourselves.
Or, if by nature fober, ye had then,
Boys as ye were, the gravity of men ;
Ye knew at least, by constant proofs address'd
To ears and eyes, the vices of the rest.
But ye connive at what ye cannot cure,
And evils, not to be endur'd, endure,
Left pow'r exerted, but without fuccefs,
Should make the little ye retain still less.
Ye once were juftly fam'd for bringing forth
Undoubted scholarship and genuine worth;
And in the firmament of fame ftill fhines
A glory, bright as that of all the figns,

Of poets rais'd by you, and ftatefmen, and divines.

Peace to them all! thofe brilliant times are fled,
And no fuch lights are kindling in their stead.
Our striplings fhine, indeed, but with such rays
As fet the midnight riot in a blaze;

And feem, if judg'd by their expreffive looks,
Deeper in none than in their surgeons' books.

Say, mufe, (for education made the song,
No mufe can hesitate or linger long)
What caufes move us, knowing as we must,
That these menageries all fail their trust,
To fend our fons to scout and scamper there,
While colts and puppies coft us fo much care?

Be it a weakness, it deferves fome praife;
We love the play-place of our early days-
The scene is touching, and the heart is stone
That feels not at that fight, and feels at none.
The wall on which we tried our graving skill,
The very name we carv'd fubfifting ftill;

The bench on which we fat while deep employ'd,
Though mangled, hack'd, and hew'd, not yet destroy'd:
The little ones, unbutton'd, glowing hot,

Playing our games, and on the very spot;
As happy as we once, to kneel and draw
The chalky ring, and knuckle down at taw;

To pitch the ball into the grounded hat,
Or drive it devious with a dextrous pat-
The pleating fpectacle at once excites
Such recollection of our own delights,

That, viewing it, we feem almost t' obtain
Our innocent sweet fimple years again.

This fond attachment to the well-known place,
Whence first we started into life's long race,
Maintains its hold with fuch unfailing fway,
We feel it ev'n in age, and at our latest day.
Hark! how the fire of chits, whofe future share
Of claffic food begins to be his care,

With his own likeness plac'd on either knee,
Indulges all a father's heart-felt glee;

And tells them, as he ftrokes their filver locks,
That they must foon learn Latin, and to box;
Then, turning, he regales his lift'ning wife
With all th' adventures of his early life;
His skill in coachmanship, or driving chaife,
In bilking tavern bills, and spouting plays;
What shifts he us'd, detected in a fcrape,
How he was flogg'd, or had the luck t' escape;
What fums he loft at play, and how he fold
Watch, feals, and all-till all his pranks are told
Retracing thus his frolics, ('tis a name

That palliates deeds of folly and of shame)