My Vale, should my muse prove but willing and free,
Parting sorrows to chase from my brain,
Shall in metre prophetic, on some two or three,
Indulge in her whimsical vein.
First Keate let me give to thy talents and worth,
A tribute that all will approve;
When Atropos shall sever thy life's thread on earth
Thou shalt fall rich in honor and love.
Revered as respected thy memory last,
~108~~
Long, long, as Etona is known,
Engraved on the hearts of thy scholars, the blast
Of detraction ne'er sully thy stone.
Others too I could name and as worthy of note,
But my Vale 'twould too lengthy extend:
Sage _Domine_ all,--all deserving my vote,
Who the tutor combine with the friend.
But a truce with these ancients, the young I must seek,
The juvenile friends of my heart,
Of secrets hid in futurity speak,
And tell how they'll each play their part.
First Heartly, the warmth of thy generous heart
Shall expand with maturity's years;
New joys to the ag'd and the poor thou'lt impart,
And dry up pale Misery's tears.
Next honest Tom Echo, the giddy and gay,
In sports shall all others excel;
And the sound of his horn, with "Ho! boys, hark--away!"
Re-echo his worth through life's dell.
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