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Verses
Spoken at St. Paul's School by F.P.R., aged ten years, April 30, 1807.
Spes arrectæ juvenum, exultantiaque haurit
Corda pavor pulsans.—
Virgil. By hopes and anxious fears at once oppressed
What throbs tumultuous swell the youthful breast!
Corda pavor pulsans.—
Virgil. By hopes and anxious fears at once oppressed
What throbs tumultuous swell the youthful breast!
As when, at eve, their daily labours done,
While in the west declines the setting sun,
And neighb'ring hills their length'ning shadows throw
O'er the luxuriant meads that smile below,
In some sweet vale, remote from public view,
The village youth their rustic sports pursue,
While various groups assemble on the green,
If chance some stripling view the mirthful scene,
As yet unskill'd to urge the mimic war,
Or hurl with well-pois'd arm the pond'rous bar,
His ardent breast with emulation glows,
And eager hope a tenfold strength bestows;
What mix'd sensations fill his anxious breast,
When first in open view he stands confest,
Joins the gay troop, and in the sportive play
'Midst youthful rivals makes his first essay!
So in my breast distracting doubts prevail,
And new emotions now my mind assail;
As, in such scenes untried, these boards I tread,
“With all my imperfections on my head,”
Alternate passions in my bosom sway,
Now buoy'd by hope, now harass'd by dismay.
While in the west declines the setting sun,
And neighb'ring hills their length'ning shadows throw
O'er the luxuriant meads that smile below,
In some sweet vale, remote from public view,
The village youth their rustic sports pursue,
While various groups assemble on the green,
If chance some stripling view the mirthful scene,
As yet unskill'd to urge the mimic war,
Or hurl with well-pois'd arm the pond'rous bar,
His ardent breast with emulation glows,
And eager hope a tenfold strength bestows;
2
When first in open view he stands confest,
Joins the gay troop, and in the sportive play
'Midst youthful rivals makes his first essay!
So in my breast distracting doubts prevail,
And new emotions now my mind assail;
As, in such scenes untried, these boards I tread,
“With all my imperfections on my head,”
Alternate passions in my bosom sway,
Now buoy'd by hope, now harass'd by dismay.
Think not I stand to act a feigned part,
Or pourtray feelings foreign to my heart;
No blood-stain'd Richard here disdains to yield,
Raves for his horse, and treads th' ensanguin'd field;
No sorrowing Hamlet mourns his murder'd sire,
No lovers sigh, or treach'rous foes conspire;
No borrowed character—I come to raise
My voice, as duty prompts, in Colet's praise;
Whose mind by strong benevolence inspired,
By patriot warmth and love of virtue fired,
To rescue man from sloth's destructive hand,
And from fell ign'rance save his native land,
To free mankind from superstitious powers
This fabric raised in most auspicious hours.
Or pourtray feelings foreign to my heart;
No blood-stain'd Richard here disdains to yield,
Raves for his horse, and treads th' ensanguin'd field;
No sorrowing Hamlet mourns his murder'd sire,
No lovers sigh, or treach'rous foes conspire;
No borrowed character—I come to raise
My voice, as duty prompts, in Colet's praise;
Whose mind by strong benevolence inspired,
By patriot warmth and love of virtue fired,
To rescue man from sloth's destructive hand,
And from fell ign'rance save his native land,
To free mankind from superstitious powers
This fabric raised in most auspicious hours.
Patron of learning, and religion's friend,
To thee in fervent gratitude we bend;
Though death has call'd thee hence to endless day,
Though years roll on, and ages pass away,
Thy name, thine honour'd name, shall still survive,
And in our grateful bosoms ever live!
But hold! methinks I hear some critic cry,
“The boy's too late; the time has long gone by;
Young Roscii now have lost the power to charm,
And infant orators no longer swarm:
At length aroused, our strange delirium o'er,
Their puny efforts please our ears no more.”
To thee in fervent gratitude we bend;
3
Though years roll on, and ages pass away,
Thy name, thine honour'd name, shall still survive,
And in our grateful bosoms ever live!
But hold! methinks I hear some critic cry,
“The boy's too late; the time has long gone by;
Young Roscii now have lost the power to charm,
And infant orators no longer swarm:
At length aroused, our strange delirium o'er,
Their puny efforts please our ears no more.”
'Tis true I'm young: perhaps, too, somewhat small:
But that has been the common lot of all:
Grave rev'rend sages, heroes six feet high—
Nestor himself—were once as young as I:
The sturdiest oak that ploughs the boist'rous main,
The guardian bulwark of Britannia's reign,
A sapling once, within its native vale,
Shrank from the blast and bow'd at every gale.
Ladies, to you I turn; my cause befriend,
Blame not a fault each day will help to mend.
In these sage times of wisdom so profuse,
This reign of reason, sense, and Mother Goose,
Consult your hearts, and blame us if you can,
If boys, when men turn children, ape the man.
But that has been the common lot of all:
Grave rev'rend sages, heroes six feet high—
Nestor himself—were once as young as I:
The sturdiest oak that ploughs the boist'rous main,
The guardian bulwark of Britannia's reign,
A sapling once, within its native vale,
Shrank from the blast and bow'd at every gale.
Ladies, to you I turn; my cause befriend,
Blame not a fault each day will help to mend.
In these sage times of wisdom so profuse,
This reign of reason, sense, and Mother Goose,
Consult your hearts, and blame us if you can,
If boys, when men turn children, ape the man.
My youth forgive! When time has o'er me flown,
And future years have marked me for their own,
Oft to these scenes may I again repair,
And oft again your flatt'ring favours share!
My hopes confirm; my doubts, my fears remove;
Blame where you must; and where you can, approve!
And future years have marked me for their own,
4
And oft again your flatt'ring favours share!
My hopes confirm; my doubts, my fears remove;
Blame where you must; and where you can, approve!
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