Away with Love - his subtle net Would snare my heart before its time : But no! he shall not bind me yet, For I have many a height sublime Of steep ascent, with toil to climb, Where passion's fire and love's regret, Would check my course in youthful prime : Hence then be love's illusion cast, It must not, and it shall not last. Hope is the Captain of our host, May all his leader's ardour boast; Not now, O Love! should'st thou appear ; Since I must bear, through many a year, The studious look, and loveless heart : This is no time to grieve, or sigh, O'er lover's bliss, in lady's bower : FAREWELL TO EXETER. AUGUST 22, 1805. 'Tis vain; we cannot tear apart Lie bright in prospect; but regret Pensive, yet pleased, I breathe a fond farewell, Though now we part, remembrance still shall dwell THE ABBOT JUBILEE. The summer months bring wilding shoot ABBOT to thee thy pupils bring SCOTT. Their tribute due of grateful praise, 'Mid those far scenes when fancy strays, How bright each early vision burns, How oft in hours of toil, or strife, When false friends fail, and fortune lowers, Of youthful sports and careless hours, Long years are past; and time has wrought Oh! say not so, - since true hearts yet And we, though far our steps have strayed, To us, each well remembered spot, The plains, the groves, are still the same, No object changed, no sport forgot; Kite, marble, football, each old game, Wherein to win was then held fame, Here flourish still; and half we deem Ourselves unchanged, in this blest dream. But no, 'tis past; the fates allow No second youth, since time will trace His change alike on furrowed brow, And mind matured. In youth's warm race, Our sons have ta'en their fathers' place, And we, with mixed regret and pride, To aid their course must step aside. Instructer sage! beloved as feared, On whom our youthful cares we cast, To grateful bosoms long endeared, Say, must this meeting be our last? Is thy long term of service past? And may our sons no longer crave The aids to us thy wisdom gave? Farewell! since warmest hopes in vain Fondly we bid thee here adieu; New joys may come, new scenes ensue, Soft be the pillow of thine age, The cradle of declining years, Unknown alike to turbid rage, To sordid want, or bigot fears : While hope's bright ray thy prospect cheers, Gently may time, in reverence, shed The frosts of age around thy head. 5 |