16 THE FORESTERS. 



Deep, busy silence muffling all below ; 

 Slates, pens, and copy-books in order pass, 

 And peace and industry pervade each class. 

 Dear to the Muse, to truth, to science dear, 

 Be he who humbly toils and teaches here ! 

 His worth, his labors, shall not sleep forgot, 

 And thus the Muse records them as she ought 



Of all professions that this world has known. 

 From clowns and cobblers, upwards to the throna ; 

 From the grave architect of Greece and Rome, 

 Down to the framer of a farthing broom, 

 The worst for care and undeserved abuse, 

 The first in real dignity and use, 

 ( If skilled Lo teach, and diligent to rule) 

 Is the learned master of a little school. 

 Not he who guides the legs, or skills the clown 

 To square his fist, and knock his fellow dtfwn ; 

 Not he who shows the still more barbarous art 

 To parry thrusts and pierce the unguarded heart ; 

 But that good man, who, faithful to his charge, 

 Still toils the opening reason to enlarge ; 

 And leads the growing mind, through every stage, 

 From humble A, B, C, to God's own page ; 

 From black, rough pothooks, horrid to the sight, 

 To fairest lines that float o'er purest white ; 

 From numeration, through an opening way, 

 Till dark annuities seem clear as day ; 

 Pours o'er the mind a flood of mental light, 

 Expands its wings, and gives it powers for flight, 



