We name the world a school, for day by day We something learn, till we are call’d away; The school we name a world,--for vice and pain, Fraud and contention, there begin to reign; And much, in fact, this lesser world can show Of grief and crime that in the greater grow. “You saw,” said George, “in that still-hated school How the meek suffer, how the haughty rule; There soft, ingenuous, gentle minds endure Ills that ease, time, and friendship fail to cure; 10 There the best hearts, and those, who shrink from sin, Find some seducing imp to draw them in, Who takes infernal pleasure to impart The strongest poison to the purest heart. Call to your mind this scene--Yon boy behold: How hot the vengeance of a heart so cold! See how he beats, whom he had just reviled And made rebellious--that imploring child; How fierce his eye, how merciless his blows, And how his anger on his insult grows; 20 You saw this Hector and his patient slave, Th’ insulting speech, the cruel blows he gave. Mix’d with mankind, his interest in his sight, We found this Nimrod civil and polite; There was no triumph in his manner seen, He was so humble you might think him mean. Those angry passions slept till he attain’d His purposed wealth, and waked when that was gain’d; He then resumed the native wrath and pride, The more indulged, as longer laid aside; 30 Wife, children, servants, all obedience pay, The slaves at school no greater slaves than they; No more dependant, he resumes the rein, And shows the school-boy turbulence again. “Were I a poet, I would say, he brings To recollection some impetuous springs; See one that issues from its humble source, To gain new powers, and run its noisy course: Frothy and fierce among the rocks it goes, And threatens all that bound it or oppose; 40 Till wider grown, and finding large increase, Though bounded still, it moves along in peace; And, as its waters to the ocean glide, They bear a busy people on its tide; But there arrived, and from its channel free, Those swelling waters meet the mighty sea; With threat’ning force the new-form’d billows swell, And now affright the crowd they bore so well.” “Yet,” said the rector, “all these early signs Of vice are lost, and vice itself declines; 50 Religion counsels; troubles, sorrows rise, And the vile spirit in the conflict dies. “Sir Hector Blane, the champion of the school, Was very blockhead, but was form’d for rule; Learn he could not; he said he could not learn, But he profess’d it gave him no concern. Books were his horror, dinner his delight, And his amusement to shake hands and fight; Argue he could not, but in case of doubt, Or disputation, fairly box’d it out.