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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.
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: