Ah, dearest youth! these vows perhaps unheard,
The rude wind scatters o'er the billowy main;
These prayers at friendship's holy shrine preferr'd
May rise to grasp their father's knees in vain.
Soon, soon may nod the sad funereal plume
With solemn horror o'er thy timeless hearse,
And I survive to grave upon thy tomb
The mournful tribute of memorial verse. —
That leave to heaven's decision — Be it thine,
Higher than yet a parent's wishes flew,
To soar in bright pre-eminence, and shine
With self-earn'd honours, eager to pursue,
Where glory, with her clear unsully'd rays,
The well-born spirit lights to deeds of mightiest praise.