INTRODUCTION. TO THE REV. ROMEO ELTON, PROFESSOR OF LANGUAGES IN BROWN UNIVERSITY. WHAT time, dear Elton, we were wont to rove Hear barbarous voices still our Founder hail; But soon the transient dream of youth was gone, A little bark before the tempest driven,- Wearied at length with the unceasing strife, No longer venturing for exalted life, (For storms and quicksands have no charms for me,) I, in the listless labors of the swain, Provoke no turmoil and awake no pain. To drive the team afield and guide the plough, Wakes not the glance of lynx-eyed rival now, And makes no heart with disappointment bleed; Once more I joy to see the rivers flow. The lambkins sport, and brindled oxen feed, Of childhood lovelier than the vernal flower, Thus were the numbers taught at first to flow, My thoughts spontaneous sought the embodying rhyme. With blessings only for his bosom friend,— The human soul did her long bondage rend; And now, my Elton, as in hours of ease, With aimless joy I filled this frail balloon, Let gales propitious gently waft me on, Tiverton, R. I., September, 1832. |