TO THE MEMORY OF RAISLEY CALVERT

Calvert! it must not be unheard by them

Who may respect my name, that I to thee

Owed many years of early liberty.

This care was thine when sickness did condemn

Thy youth to hopeless wasting, root and stem —

That I, if frugal and severe, might stray

Where'er I liked; and finally array

My temples with the Muse's diadem.

Hence, if in freedom I have loved the truth;

If there be aught of pure, or good, or great,

In my past verse; or shall be, in the lays

Of higher mood, which now I meditate;—

It gladdens me, O worthy, short-lived, Youth!

To think how much of this will be thy praise.