Part 2 — TO A YOUNG AUTHOR ON HIS BIRTHDAY.

Friend of my later years, whose thoughts are set To noble ends, despising the pursuit Of vices which the instinct of the brute, Incorporate in man, contends for yet;— Who out of boyhood’s slavery and fret Could issue like a sword-blade from its sheath, Resolved by high endeavor to bequeath Some good that future times may not forget,— Press on, thy better fortune leads the way, And thine is still the sesame of youth, To which the door of many a hidden truth Shall open,—so I dare to prophesy,— And ancient Error, stubborn and uncouth, Shall own thy strength and rue thy natal day.