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Τ Η Ε Β Ο Υ Τ Υ R Α Ν Τ.

See how he beats, whom he has just reviled,
And made rebellious, that imploring child.


Among my early inmates there was one,

The scorn alike and terror of the school;

Subtle, unfeeling, in his malice cool,
And patient in revenge, no favours done
Moved his base soul, or e'er to kindness won.

Fearless false, he aims alike to rule

By force and fraud : each idler is his tool, The timid fear him, and the prudent shun.

In vice unwearied, 'tis his daily joy To gun the ignorant, the good betray;

But chief, the sensitive and tender boy, Now to his arts, to lure, unwares, astray;

Then turn informer, and his dupe defame, Himself unharmed, and glorying in his shame.


The drilled dull lesson, forced down, word by word.


The Latin Grammar can I think again,

In patience, on that sickness of the heart,

When words of uncouth sound and rules of art, To me unmeaning, as replete with pain, Sought entrance first on my reluctant brain,

Till then indulged, I ne'er had known the smart Of task enforced : my memory could retain The hymn, or prayer, or ballad's simple strain,

Caught from those lips maternal, which impart Knowledge at once and pleasure, eye and ear To that mild teacher open still and clear;

But closed on him who seemed not to discern How kindness quickens, while disgust and fear

Palsy the mind, which ceases thence to learn.


In thoughtless gaiety, I course the plain,
And Hope itself is all I know of Pain.


THE TERM IS ENDED ! what more grateful sound

To mortal ears ! to toil-worn judge sedate,

To weary lawyer, doomed on courts to wait, And client, not less wearied, who has found His endless law-suit, for a rood of ground,

Engulfing acres ! Welcome is the date,

That turns the 'prentice from his master's gate, Or sees the minor with full freedom crowned.

But nor to minor, swelling with the pride

Of coming freedom; not when courts decide, Or jurors can agree; not from the bar

When learned counsel hasten, is their joy

Like his, the rapture of that term-worn boy, Released, and journeying to his home afar.


Ad now is confidence, the fresh o'erflow
Of hearts, that feel, the transport, they bestow :
And then how pleasant all old haunts to view,
Each comrade greet, and former loves renew

Warm is the welcome from each well known face,

That smiles beneath that old paternal roof:

And manifold, as tender, is the proof
Of interest, that each inmate of the place
Feels in me still, while all, with wonder, trace

Each change, in form or manner, time has wrought,
Since last we parted. In that warm embrace,
The charities of home and kindred race

Revive once more, with tenfold pleasure fraught.

But ah! how brief that pleasure — soon the thought
Of parting grieves : yet transient is that pain,
The first home sickness never comes again ;

Or comes, so softened, that the pensive grief
Yields pleasure, rather than demands relief.


Fearless they leap, and every youngster feels
His Alma active in his hands and heels.


The sports of youth, and all the youthful train,

Each dear familiar object, to my sight

Returns, renewed, in all its old delight, As through these haunts, with mingled joy and pain,

I roam once more, they all are here again,

Each spot so loved of yore; with dexterous sleight, The marble glancing to its destined aim, The kite, the cricket, and the hardier game

Of foot ball, bounding o'er the trampled plain ; The glowing brow, flushed cheek, and eye of flame,

The toil to win, the effort to retain :
And lo! yon youth, another, yet the same,

My boy, - with foot as restless in the chase,
As erst his sire's, when foremost in the race.

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Flinging the billows back from drenched hair,
And laughing from my lips the audacious brine !


The glowing fervours of the summer sun

Make grateful now the stream, wherein to lave

Our languid limbs, and sport along the wave.
And see yon tender stripling, who hath run
In haste, yet pauses ere the feat be done :

Lingering yet longing, fearful and yet brave,

He plunges headlong to the Nereid cave, Emerging soon, with spoils from Neptune won.

See too yon puny Cassius* of the tide

His Cæsar daring through the waves to glide, For yonder point, that distant lures the eye.

The stream they buffet now, with manly pride,

And lusty sinews, throwing it aside, With hearts of controversy, beating high !

*Julius Cæsar, Act I, Scene II.


Their sinews grow
Firm mid the gladness of heroic sports.


Nor less our winter joys; 'tis now the time

For strenuous action : on each adverse height

The snow built fort provokes the hardy fight. By numbers guarded, yet can courage climb

The steep ascent; while passions, that incite

Man's later years to virtue's daring flight,
Here spring to life, in strength of youthful prime.

Ambition, valour, hope's aspiring aim,

Contempt of danger, generous thirst for fame, Give strength to fragile limbs; and force impart

Of manly daring to youth's slender frame.
Conduct is here might grace the soldier's art,

Or statesman's policy; their hopes the same,
In manhood's toils, and youth's adventurous game.



They ask no other gem, nor wealth,
Save nature's gifts of youth and health.


'Tis evening, and the winter's sky is fair ;

Away with books then, and the musty rules

Of solemn pedants in their pent up schools ! While sloth lies slumbering on his easy chair,

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