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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 Excercise 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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