'Tis granted, and no plainer truth appears, Our most important are our earliest years; The mind, impressible and soft, with ease Imbibes and copies what she hears and sees, And through life's labyrinth holds fast the clue, That education gives her, false or true. Plants raised with tenderness are seldom strong; Man's coltish disposition asks the thong; And without discipline the favourite child, Like a neglected forester, runs wild. But we, as if good qualities would grow Spontaneous, take but little pains to sow; We give some Latin, and a smatch of Greek; Teach him to fence and figure twice a week; And having done, we think, the best we can, Praise his proficiency, and dub him man. From school to Cam or Isis, and thence home: And thence with all convenient speed to Rome, With reverend tutor clad in habit lay, To tease for cash and quarrel with all day; And every post, and where the chaise broke down; 1 His stock, a few French phrases got by heart, The youth, obedient to his sire's commands, Ere long some bowing, smirking, smart Abbé Remarks two loiterers, that have lost their way; And being always primed with politesse For men of their appearance and address, Exhibits elevations, drawings, plans, Strange the recital! from whatever cause His great improvement and new light he draws, The squire, once bashful, is shamefaced no more, But teems with powers he never felt before: Whether increased momentum, and the force, With which from clime to clime he sped his course, (As axles sometimes kindle as they go) Chafed him, and brought dull nature to a glow; That make Italian flowers so sweet and fair, We slight the precious kernel of the stone, While learning, once the man's exclusive pride, Seems verging fast towards the female side. Learning itself, received into a mind By nature weak, or viciously inclined, Serves but to lead philosophers astray, Where children would with ease discern the way. And of all arts sagacious dupes invent, To cheat themselves and gain the world's assent, The worst is-scripture warped from its intent. The carriage bowls along, and all are pleased If Tom be sober, and the wheels well greased; But if the rogue have gone a cup too far, Left out his linch-pin, or forgot his tar, And meets with hindrance in the smoothest way. Has filled with all its fumes a critic's brain, And judgment drunk, and bribed to lose his way, A lewd interpreter is never just. How shall I speak thee, or thy power address, Thou god of our idolatry, the press? |