[
BIRTHDAY
ODE
]
TO
MY
SON
AT
SCHOOL
,
AGED
13
,
JUNE
11.
OF
thee
,
dear
boy
,
the
muse
shall
sing
,
With
joy
she
strikes
the
tuneful
string
,
To
hail
thy
natal
hour
;
And
O
may
lasting
be
the
joy
,
Nor
,
as
the
man
suceeeds
the
boy
,
The
fruit
disgrace
the
flower
!
Still
warm
and
tender
be
thy
heart
,
To
honour
true
,
devoid
of
art
,
The
wisdom
of
the
weak
;
Still
gen'rous
,
feeling
,
and
sincere
,
Give
misery
the
melting
tear
,
And
joy
the
glowing
cheek
.
The
gliding
years
move
swiftly
on
,
And
thy
third
lustre
almost
gone
,
New
cares
appear
in
view
,
Behold
the
world's
eventful
stage
;
Where
talents
in
a
riper
age
Must
future
hopes
pursue
.
But
he
who
excellence
attains
,
Toils
up
the
steep
,
the
summit
gains
,
Nor
shrinks
from
burning
skies
,
Nor
loiters
in
the
midway
shade
,
But
climbs
with
firm
and
steady
tread
Where
rocks
successive
rise
.
Till
now
thou
hast
but
wander'd
wild
,
A
giddy
,
thoughtless
,
playful
child
,
In
sport
around
the
base
;
'Tis
time
to
try
the
mountain's
side
,
And
search
with
manly
,
honest
pride
A
more
distinguish'd
place
.
Court
then
the
muse
,
her
magic
pow'r
Can
shorten
many
a
ling'ring
hour
Through
life's
uneven
way
;
While
science
,
by
those
laws
divine
Which
guide
to
truth's
eternal
shrine
,
Shall
clear
thy
mental
day
.
Go
on
,
dear
boy
!
'tis
virtue
leads
;
He
that
determines
half
succeeds
,
Nor
obstacles
can
move
:
Seek
useful
knowledge
,
honest
fame
,
Do
honour
to
an
honour'd
name
,
And
well
thy
race
approve
.
O
think
!
what
joy
my
heart
shall
know
,
How
bright
th'
expiring
lamp
shall
glow
,
When
quiv'ring
o'er
the
tomb
,
If
,
in
the
ev'ning
of
my
days
,
I
live
to
hear
thy
well
earn'd
praise
,
And
see
thy
honours
bloom
.
If
life's
decline
should
be
so
bless'd
,
How
satisfy'd
shall
shrink
to
rest
Thy
mother
and
thy
friend
;
For
well
the
Grecian
sage
defin'd
The
happiest
lot
of
human
kind
,
So
fortunate
an
end
.
See
Solon's
Answer
to
Crassus
,
Herodotus
,
book
i
.