Here, first remember'd be the joyous band, Who hail'd me chief, [6] obedient to command; 100 Who join'd with me, in every boyish sport, Their first adviser, and their last resort; Nor shrunk beneath the upstart pedant's frown, [iii] Or all the sable glories of his gown; [iv] Who, thus, transplanted from his father's school, Unfit to govern, ignorant of rule-- Succeeded him, whom all unite to praise, The dear preceptor of my early days, PROBUS, [7] the pride of science, and the boast-- To IDA now, alas! for ever lost! 110 With him, for years, we search'd the classic page, [v] And fear'd the Master, though we lov'd the Sage: Retir'd at last, his small yet peaceful seat From learning's labour is the blest retreat. POMPOSUS fills his magisterial chair; POMPOSUS governs,--but, my Muse, forbear: Contempt, in silence, be the pedant's lot, [vi] His name and precepts be alike forgot; No more his mention shall my verse degrade,-- To him my tribute is already paid. [8] 120 High, through those elms with hoary branches crown'd [9] Fair IDA'S bower adorns the landscape round; There Science, from her favour'd seat, surveys The vale where rural Nature claims her praise; To her awhile resigns her youthful train, Who move in joy, and dance along the plain; In scatter'd groups, each favour'd haunt pursue, Repeat old pastimes, and discover new; Flush'd with his rays, beneath the noontide Sun, In rival bands, between the wickets run, 130 Drive o'er the sward the ball with active force, Or chase with nimble feet its rapid course. But these with slower steps direct their way, Where Brent's cool waves in limpid currents stray, While yonder few search out some green retreat, And arbours shade them from the summer heat: Others, again, a pert and lively crew, Some rough and thoughtless stranger plac'd in view, With frolic quaint their antic jests expose, And tease the grumbling rustic as he goes; 140 Nor rest with this, but many a passing fray Tradition treasures for a future day: "'Twas here the gather'd swains for vengeance fought, And here we earn'd the conquest dearly bought: Here have we fled before superior might, And here renew'd the wild tumultuous fight." While thus our souls with early passions swell, In lingering tones resounds the distant bell; Th' allotted hour of daily sport is o'er, And Learning beckons from her temple's door. 150 No splendid tablets grace her simple hall, But ruder records fill the dusky wall: There, deeply carv'd, behold! each Tyro's name Secures its owner's academic fame; Here mingling view the names of Sire and Son, The one long grav'd, the other just begun: These shall survive alike when Son and Sire, Beneath one common stroke of fate expire; [10]