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Hail, bounteous May, that dost inspire Mirth, and youth, and warm desire; Woods and groves are of thy dressing, Hill and dale doth boast thy blessing. Thus we salute thee with our early song, And welcome thee, and wish thee long.

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MISCELLANIES.

ANNO ÆTATIS XIX.

At a Vacation Exercise in the College, part Latin, part English.
The Latin speeches ended, the English thus began:

HAIL, native language, that by sinews weak,
Didst move my first-endeavouring tongue to speak,
And madest-imperfect words, with childish trips,
Half unpronounced, slide through my infant lips,
Driving dumb silence from the portal door,
Where he had mutely sat two years before:
Here I salute thee, and thy pardon ask,

That now I use thee in my latter task:

Small loss it is that thence can come unto thee,
I know my tongue but little grace can do thee:
Thou need'st not be ambitious to be first,
Believe me, I have thither pack'd the worst:
And, if it happen as I did forecast,

The daintiest dishes shall be served up last,
I pray thee then deny me not thy aid,

For this same small neglect that I have made:
But haste thee straight to do me once a pleasure,
And from thy wardrobe bring thy chiefest treasure ;
Not those new-fangled toys and trimming slight
Which take our late fantastics with delight;
But cull those richest robes, and gayest attire,
Which deepest spirits and choicest wits desire:

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