— — Tali Auxilio — —

Tempus eget — —

YourSonneareighteenYears of Age,
Too tall forSchool, or a CourtPage,
(Tho oft yourNeighbour, his goodGrace,
Promis'd hisGodsonsuch aPlace,
Sets out: no matter; you haveFriends,
And something betterNedattends
At his Return fromforeignLand,
Where now he's sent by your Command.
He's gone; but, with an aching Mind,
To leave his darlingHoundsbehind;
The wearyTaskperforms in haste,
And thinks hisTime, andLabourwaste,
Impatient, restless, and in pain,
Till he canhuntathomeagain;
Remembring nothing that he fees,
But Rivers, Steeples, Hills, and Trees;
For how shou'd the raw Country'Squire
ATastefor thefine Artsacquire,
OrRome, orRaphael's Hand admire?
HisTutor, ameer Scholarbred,
WithCollege Muttonduely fed,
Strangerto allFatiguebefore,
Consents to post halfEuropeo'er,
And guard theLadfrom foreign Vice,
LewdWomen, Popery, andDice,
So that yourParishbe his Prize,
When the good, oldIncumbentdies;
All hisAmbitiona good Stock
To ploughChurchLands; a docileFlock;
A fruitfulSpouse; a House, that's clean;
Perhaps in Time to be aDean:
WithThoughtslike these, allTonguesunknown,
ButClassic Latin, and his own,
He went, and grudges all his Pains,
TillCamorIsishe regains.
ThisMentor, thisTelemachus,
For one another fitted thus,
In all theInnswhere they have lain,
The wish'dPolitenessneeds must gain.
Thus, whileretir'dwith your good Wife,
You lead afrugal, Country Life,
Andmortgage FarmsforreadyPelf,
To keepyoung Masterlike himself.
TheYouthin Search ofKnowledgegoes,
And ev'ryRoadexactly knows;
Learns howwild BoarstheGermanstake;
WhatFishesfillGeneva's Lake;
EachPrince, orPost-Boythat he meets
Can name, and all theParisStreets.
This is the best you must expect;
For, shou'd ourGuardhisChargeneglect.
Things may go worse — the 'Squiresuppose
At hisReturnwithout aNose;
Or forc't onMarriageto some poor
Coquet, or castVenetianWhore;
Or to aCoxcombfrom aClown
Improv'd, 'twill add to his Renown!
Had it not better been to stay,
AndEducatethe good, old Way,
Withsolid Learningstore his Mind
FromBooks,, he left unread behind,
TheStructurewell contriv'dwithin,
Th'external Ornamentsbegin;
Nor, like a vain, fondArchitect,
Agaudy Frontispieceerect,
And all theuseful Roomsneglect,
Thus when he cameindeedofAge,
Grewcurioushimself, andsage,
You might have chose yourHeirto send
Abroadwith ourexperienc'd Friend,
Who, likeUlysses, has been out
Some Years, and rang'd theWorldabout,
ToreadMankind, theirMannersknow,
Nor Vice'sSlave, nor Pleasure'sFoe:
Of Him he might have learnt tolive,
And form aTaste — — but you'll forgive,
The dark'ningAgedeclines apace:
With Tears I think upon theRace
Our futureProgenymust breed,
And fear, ourGrandsonswill notread.