ELEGY TO A YOUNG NOBLEMAN LEAVING THE UNIVERSITY. MDCCLIII. William Mason Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
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Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. T116245 1122 K093079.001 Pearch, G. A collection of poems in four volumes. By several hands. Vol. I. [The second edition]. London printed for G. Pearch 1770 pp. 197-200. 4v. ; 8⁰.

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ELEGY TO A YOUNG NOBLEMAN Lord J— C— . LEAVING THE UNIVERSITY . MDCCLIII . BY THE SAME . EER yet , ingenuous youth , thy steps retire From Cam's smooth margin , and the peaceful vale , Where Science call'd thee to her studious quire , And met thee musing in her cloysters pale ; O ! let thy friend ( and may he boast the name ) Breathe from his artless reed one parting lay ; A lay like this thy early Virtues claim , And this let voluntary Friendship pay . Yet know , the time arrives , the dangerous time , When all those Virtues , opening now so fair , Transplanted to the world's tempestuous clime , Must learn each passion's boisterous breath to bear , There , if Ambition pestilent and pale , Or Luxury should taint their vernal glow ; If cold Self-interest , with her chilling gale , Should blast th' unfolding blossoms e'er they blow ; If mimic hues , by Art , or Fashion spread , Their genuine , simple colouring should supply , O ! with them may these laureate honours fade ; And with them ( if it can ) my friendship die . Then do not blame , if , tho' thyself inspire , Cautious I strike the panegyric string ; The muse full oft pursues a meteor fire , And , vainly ventrous , soars on waxen wing . Too actively awake at Friendship's voice , The poet's bosom pours the servent strain , Till sad Reflection blames the hasty choice , And oft invokes Oblivion's aid in vain . Call we the shade of Pope , from that blest bower Where thron'd he sits with many a tuneful Sage ; Ask , if he ne'er bemoans that hapless hour When St. John's name Alluding to this couplet of Mr. Pope's , To Cato , Virgil paid one honest line , O let my country's friends illumine mine . illumin'd Glory's page ? Ask , if the wretch , who dar'd his memory stain , Ask , if his country's , his religion's foe , Deserv'd the meed that Marlbro' fail'd to gain , The deathless meed , he only could bestow ? The bard will tell thee , the misguided praise Clouds the celestial sunshine of his breast ; Ev'n now , repentant of his erring lays , He heaves a sigh amid the realms of rest . If Pope thro' friendship fail'd , indignant view , Yet pity Dryden ; hark , whene'er he sings , How Adulation drops her courtly dew On titled Rhymers , and inglorious Kings . See , from the depths of his exhaustless mine , His glittering stores the tuneful spendthrift throws ; Where Fear , or Interest bids , behold they shine ; Now grace a Cromwell's , now a Charles's brows . Born with too generous , or too mean a heart , Dryden ! in vain to thee those stores were lent : Thy sweetest numbers but a trifling art ; Thy strongest diction idly eloquent . The simplest Lyre , if Truth directs its lays , Warbles a melody ne'er heard from thine : Not to disgust with false , or venal praise , Was Parnell's modest fame , and may be mine . Go then , my friend , nor let thy candid breast Condemn me , if I check the plausive string ; Go to the wayward world ; complete the rest ; Be , what the purest muse would wish to sing . Be still thyself ; that open path of truth , Which led thee here , let Manhood firm pursue ; Retain the sweet simplicity of Youth , And all thy virtue dictates , dare to do . Still scorn , with conscious pride , the mask of Art ; On Vice's front let fearful Caution lour , And teach the diffident , discreeter part Of knaves that plot , and fools that fawn for power . So , round thy brow when age's honours spread , When Death's cold hand unstrings thy Mason's lyre , When the green turf lies lightly on his head , Thy worth shall some superior bard inspire : He , to the amplest bounds of time's domain , On rapture's plume shall give thy name to fly ; For trust , with reverence trust this Sabine strain ! " The muse forbids the virtuous man to die . "