Classic Poem

'T IS said there was a certain wight,
Whose mother-wit was very bright,
An errant rogue, and even bolder
Than many rogues a great deal older;
An aged father's only child,
Who laugh'd at all his actions wild,
And wish'd to have him famed for knowledge,
And therefore brought him up for college.
This wight of ours disdain'd to study,
And hated books in soul and body;
His lessons, therefore, were neglected,
Though he as often was corrected;
But when there was a chance to play,
Our rogue would slily run away.
Yet, had he given due attention,
(So powerful was his comprehension,)
He might have been the first of all
In science, as in playing ball;
He might have done as great exploits
In study, as in pitching quoits;
But not an idler boy than he
Was found in the academy.
His anxious father oft advised him,
And his preceptor oft chastised him,
Yet would he seize each opportunity
To cut his capers with impunity.
At length the appointed time drew near
When he at college was t' appear.
With very little preparation,
He underwent examination;
And though it seem'd that more than once
They might have set him down a dunce,
Yet, hoping that his tricks might quit him,
The Faculty thought best to admit him.
But even there his books were slighted,
And he in mischief still delighted.
'Twould waste more time than I can spare
To tell of half his frolics there,
But, since 'tis fit to give a sample,
I mention this for an example.
One summer evening, when the moon
Among the clouds in splendor shone,
A gentleman, more kind than prudent,
Had call'd to see a certain student,
And tied his horse beneath a shade,
Until his visit should be made.
At length, returning to the spot,
He sought his horse, but found him not;
His milk-white steed, through some disaster,
Had gone away, and left his master.
He met a man upon the green,
And ask'd if he the horse had seen.
" I saw, " said he, " some time ago,
About a half a mile below,
A gentleman ride by with speed,
Upon a handsome milk-white steed.
A dozen men now volunteer'd.
A dozen horses were prepared,
And soon they gallop'd out of sight,
To catch the thief and stop his flight.
At length they saw the milk-white horse,
Which still went on with rapid course;
And clouds obscured the moon and sky,
And still the trampling sounded nigh,
Until the thief had turn'd aside,
Within the gloomy woods to hide.
They darted on, they gather'd round him,
And in the forest shortly found him.
" You rascal, " said the first, advancing,
" Is this your horse that you were prancing?
Come back! the jail shall be your home
Till the state's prison is your doom;
The judge will soon pronounce your sentence,
And leave you leisure for repentance. "
The thief, confounded, never stirr'd,
Nor deign'd to answer them a word.
Now suddenly the moon shone bright,
And placed the rogue in open light;
But such a thief as this, I ween,
No mortal since has ever seen.
For, with astonishment, they saw
A handsome scarecrow made of straw,
All dress'd in black, and set astraddle,
And firmly fasten'd to the saddle.
It seems this roguish wight of ours
Had thus exerted all his pow'rs,
Had placed the scarecrow on the steed,
And sent him off with wondrous speed,
To crack a joke and gain renown,
And raise the laughter of the town.
But time on rapid pinions glides,
Nor waits for scholars, winds or tides.
And now the fourth commencement came,
Since he at college roll'd his name,
When each received the " gradum aureum,
Omnium artium Baccalaureum. "
Our wight, of course, took his degree,
As Mr. Peter Rogue, A. B.
And now inspired with wild ambition,
Our college wit turn'd politician;
Was entertain'd with welcome hearty,
And join'd, of course, the strongest party.
He oft engaged in warm debate
To recommend his candidate;
Declaim'd, in many a florid speech,
On topics far beyond his reach;
Or held his neighbour by the coat,
To plead his cause or gain his vote.
The election came, his side succeeded;
His service was no longer needed.
No loaves or fishes could he gain,
And all his labours were in vain.
But still he tried his best endeavors,
To merit fortunes golden favors.
The Lotteries now engaged his dreams;
He purchased tickets in the schemes,
And tried the various combinations,
Arranged from modern calculations:
But notwithstanding all his pranks,
His tickets only brought him blanks.
At last, in hopes to mend his fortune,
He thought he'd try his luck in courting.
He tied his new cravat with care,
Perfumed his dress and combed his hair;
He learned to walk with due uprightness,
To dance a figure with politeness;
To enter drawing-rooms with grace,
To screw the dimples on his face;
To make his bow, and then sit down,
As neat as any beau in town.
Accomplished thus, he tried his arts,
To captivate the ladies' hearts.
But though he sought the bloom of health,
His chief inquiry was for wealth:
On this he open'd all his battery,
With stores of wit and stores of flattery.
But every lady he selected
Refused his hand, his love rejected,
And he was doom'd to pass his life,
Without the blessing of a wife.
Then driven on by desperation,
At length he plunged in dissipation;
With wine and gaming spent his hours,
Degrading, wasting all his pow'rs,
Till cash was spent and health was gone,
And even death seem'd hastening on.
Hope had departed, joy had fled,
And sorrow hover'd o'er his bed;
When sleep and care his eyes oppress'd,
And youthful visions warmed his breast.
He thought the sun was beaming o'er him,
He saw his early home before him:
The well known pine, beneath whose shade
He oft had in his childhood play'd;
The gentle stream which glided by,
And all the landscapes caught his eye.
He saw his father bent with years,
His furrow'd cheek suffused with tears,
Lamenting oft, in accents wild,
His prodigal but darling child;
And oft his weeping mother mourn'd,
" Oh why has not my son return'd! "
The dream was o'er, the morn had come,
And soon the wand'rer sought his home:
With weary steps, o'er hill and dale,
He safely reach'd his native vale;
His father's arms, his mother's kiss,
Soon realized his fancied bliss;
And well-known voices soothed his mind,
Of friends he long had left behind.
Now free from heart-corroding care,
He breathes with joy the balmy air;
He wanders through his native groves,
And peace returns, and health improves;
And labor brings him sweet repose,
Which wild ambition never knows;
And all his sorrows fade away,
Like shadows at the dawn of day.
At length, more wise and modest grown,
The prodigal is brought to own,
That prudence is the road to wealth,
And industry the friend of health;
That study is the way to knowledge,
At home, or in the halls of college;
That virtue is the purest pleasure,
And calm content the greatest treasure;
That splendid wit is all a fallacy,
And honesty the safest policy.