Let him within his pleasant Garden walk,
Give him her Arm, of Blessings let them talk.
Yes! all are with him now, and all the while
Life's early Prospects and his Fanny's Smile :
Then come his Sister and his Village-Friend,
And he will now the sweetest Moments spend
Life has to yield No! never will he find
Again on Earth such Pleasure in his Mind:
He goes through shrubby Walks these Friends among,
Love in their Looks and Honour on the Tongue;
Nay, there's a Charm beyond what Nature shows,
The Bloom is softer and more sweetly glows;---
Pierc'd by no Crime, and urg'd by no desire
For more than true and honest Hearts require,
They feel the calm Delight, and thus proceed
Through the green Lane,---then linger in the Mead,---
Stray o'er the Heath in all its purple bloom,---
And pluck the Blossom where the wild Bees hum;
Then through the broomy Bound with ease they pass,
And press the sandy Sheep-walk's slender Grass,
Where dwarfish Flowers among the Gorse are spread,
And the Lamb browzes by the Linnet's Bed;
Then 'cross the bounding Brook they make their way
O'er its rough Bridge---and there behold the Bay!---
The Ocean smiling to the fervid Sun---
The Waves that faintly fall and slowly run---
The Ships at distance and the Boats at hand;
And now they walk upon the Sea-side Sand,
Counting the Number and what Kind they be,
Ships softly sinking in the sleepy Sea:
Now arm in arm, now parted, they behold
The glitt'ring Waters on the Shingles roll❜d:
The timid Girls, half dreading their design,
Dip the small Foot in the retarded Brine,
And search for crimson Weeds, which spreading flow,
Or lie like Pictures on the Sand below;
With all those bright red Pebbles, that the Sun
Through the small Waves so softly shines upon;
And those live lucid Jellies which the eye
Delights to trace as they swim glitt'ring by:
Pearl-shells and rubied Star-fish they admire,
And will arrange above the Parlour-fire,—
Tokens of Bliss!" Oh! horrible! a Wave
"Roars as it rises--save me, Edward! save!"
She cries:---Alas! the Watchman on his way
Calls and lets in---Truth, Terror, and the Day!
Tu quoque ne metuas, quamvis Schola verbere multo
Increpet et truculenta senex geret ora magister;
Degeneres animos timor arguit; at tibi consta
Intrepidus, nec te clamor plagæque sonantes,
Nec matutinis agitet formido sub horis,
Quòd sceptrum vibrat ferulæ, quòd multa supellex
Virgea, quòd molis scuticam prætexit aluta,
Quòd fervent trepido subsellia vestra tumultu,
Pompa loci, et vani fugiatur scena timoris,
Ausonius in Protreptico ad Nepotem.
Be it a weakness, it deserves some praise,→
We love the play-place of our early days;
The scene is touching, and the heart is stone
That feels not at that sight-and feels at none,
The wall on which we tried our graving skill;
The very name we carv'd subsisting still;
The bench on which we sat while deep employ'd,
Though mangled, hack'd, and hew'd, yet not 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.'
This fond attachment to the well-known place,
When first we started into life's long race,
Maintains its hold with such unfailing sway,
We feel it e'en in age and at our latest day.
Every kind to be found in the Borough.—The School for Infants. The School Preparatory: the Sagacity of the Mistress in foreseeing Character.-Day-Schools of the lower kind.A Master with Talents adapted to such Pupils: one of superior Qualifications.—Boarding Schools: that for Young Ladies: One going first to the Governess, one finally returning Home.-School for Youth: Master and Teacher; various Dispositions and Capacities.-The Miser-Boy.-The Boy-Bully. -Sons of Farmers: how amused.-What Study will effect, examined.-A College Life: One sent from his College to a Benefice: one retained there in Dignity. -The Advantages in either Case not considerable.— Where then the good of a Literary Life?—Answered. -Conclusion.
To
every Class we have a School assign'd,
Rules for all Ranks and Food for every Mind:
Yet one there is, that small regard to Rule
Or Study pays, and still is deem'd a School;
That, where a deaf, poor, patient Widow sits,
And awes some thirty Infants as she knits;
Infants of humble, busy Wives, who pay
Some trifling Price for Freedom through the day.
At this good Matron's Hut the Children meet,
Who thus becomes the Mother of the Street:
Her Room is small, they cannot widely stray,—
Her Threshold high, they cannot run away :
Though deaf, she sees the Rebel-Heroes shout,➡
Though lame, her white Rod nimbly walks about ;
With Band of Yarn she keeps Offenders in,
And to her Gown the sturdiest Rogue can pin:
Aided by these, and Spells, and tell-tale Birds,
Her Power they dread and reverence her Words.
To Learning's second Seats we now proceed,
Where humming Students gilded Primers read;
Or Books with Letters large and Pictures gay,
To make their Reading but a kind of Play-
"Reading made Easy," so the Titles tell;
But they who read must first begin to spell :
There may be Profit in these Arts, but still
Learning is Labour, call it what you will;
Upon the youthful Mind a heavy Load,
Nor must we hope to find the Royal Road.
Some will their easy Steps to Science show,
And some to Heav'n itself their By-way know;
Ah! trust them not,-who Fame or Bliss would share,
Must learn by Labour, and must live by Care.
Another Matron of superior kind,
For higher Schools prepares the rising Mind;
Preparatory she her Learning calls,
The Step first made to Colleges and Halls.
She early sees to what the Mind will grow,
Nor abler Judge of Infant-Powers I know;
She sees what soon the Lively will impede,
And how the Steadier will in turn succeed;
Observes the dawn of Wisdom, Fancy, Taste,
And knows what Parts will wear and what will waste;
She marks the Mind too lively, and at once
Sees the gay Coxcomb and the rattling Dunce.
Long has she liv'd, and much she loves to trace
Her former Pupils, now a lordly Race;
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