At Oxford, 1786.

AT OXFORD, 1786.

Bereave me not of Fancy's shadowy dreams, Which won my heart, or when the gay career Of life begun, or when at times a tear Sat sad on memory's cheek — though loftier themes Await the awakened mind to the high prize Of wisdom, hardly earned with toil and pain, Aspiring patient; yet on life's wide plain Left fatherless, where many a wanderer sighs Hourly, and oft our road is lone and long, 'Twere not a crime should we a while delay Amid the sunny field; and happier they Who, as they journey, woo the charm of song, To cheer their way; — till they forget to weep, And the tired sense is hushed, and sinks to sleep.