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20.
TO THE MEMORY
of
RAISLEY CALVERT.

Calvert! it must not be unheard by themWho may respect my name that I to theeOw'd many years of early liberty.This care was thine when sickness did condemnThy youth to hopeless wasting, root and stem:That I, if frugal and severe, might strayWhere'er I liked; and finally arrayMy temples with the Muse's diadem.Hence, if in freedom I have lov'd the truth,If there be aught of pure, or good, or great,In my past verse; or shall be, in the laysOf higher mood, which now I meditate,It gladdens me, O worthy, short-lived Youth!To think how much of this will be thy praise.

END OF THE FIRST PART.

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