To a Pupil Leaving School.

Farewell! Farewell! Once more regain Your happy home, your native plain; Yet here, in Learning's classic fane, None have discharg'd the allotted part With firmer zeal or fonder heart. And true affection still shall hold Your image, set in Memory's gold. Yet think, sweet friend, where'er you rove, That He who strews your path with love, Accords no boon of which to say, "'Tis light, go trifle it away." No. Every fleeting hour survives; It seems to vanish, yet it lives; Though buried, it shall burst the tomb, And meet you at the bar of doom. But how it rises, how appears, With smiles or frowns, with joys or fears. And ah! what verdict then it bears, Rests on your labours, and your prayers.