[
BIRTHDAY
ODE
]
TO
THE
SAME
,
AGED
15
,
AT
CAMBRIDGE
.
NOW
twice
the
spring
,
with
flowrets
gay
,
Hath
'broider'd
o'er
her
mantle
green
,
And
twice
the
merry
month
of
May
With
hawthorn
deck'd
the
vernal
scene
,
Since
I
in
tuneful
numbers
hail'd
the
morn
When
thou
,
my
heart's
dear
boy
,
in
happy
hour
wast
born
.
Nor
had
I
miss'd
the
annual
song
,
When
June
return'd
with
roses
crown'd
;
But
rising
sorrow
check'd
my
tongue
,
And
cloudy
care
hung
low'ring
round
,
While
in
the
gloomy
shades
of
threat'ning
death
I
watch'd
thy
flutt'ring
pulse
,
and
fear'd
thy
parting
breath
.
How
exquisite
the
anxious
woe
,
The
agonizing
bitter
grief
,
Maternal
love
alone
can
know
,
'Midst
glim'ring
hopes
of
slow
relief
;
The
cruel
kindness
of
the
healing
art
,
And
those
dim
joyless
smiles
which
rend
the
bursting
heart
!
Dear
be
those
cares
,
to
mem'ry
dear
,
Which
sav'd
thee
from
an
early
grave
;
And
ever
bless'd
the
genial
year
,
The
milder
sky
,
the
briny
wave
,
The
healthful
gale
,
which
fading
life
restores
,
Where
the
smooth
swelling
tide
laves
Hampton's
happy
shores
.
Nor
sav'd
in
vain
:
O
still
pursue
The
path
where
truth
unerring
leads
,
Where
reason
early
may
subdue
The
wild
desires
which
fancy
feeds
;
Circean
charms
,
that
with
a
magic
force
Impel
the
feeble
mind
through
youth's
insensate
course
.
Go
on
,
dear
boy
,
exert
each
pow'r
On
time's
rich
treasures
to
improve
;
And
may
the
slowly
ripening
hour
,
Pass'd
in
the
academic
grove
,
Strength
to
thy
mind
with
ancient
lore
impart
,
And
judgment
firm
to
guide
a
warm
and
feeling
heart
.