Quintilian To Lycidas[81]

"While other lads their books forsake, Or sigh to meet the hours of play: You, Lycidas, no leisure take, But still through learned volumes stray:-- With years so few, ah why so grave; Why every hour to books a slave?

Hence, Lycidas, I pray, retire: Go with your mates, and take your play-- Not him I prize, or much admire, Who, curious, hangs on all I say: The lad that's wise before his time, Will be a coxcomb in his prime.

Stay not too close in learning's shop;-- 'Till time a riper mind prepares, The ball, the marble, and the top Are books, that should divide your cares-- The lads that life's gay morn enjoy, I'm pleased to see them act the boy.

I hate the pert, I hate the bold, Who, proud of years but half a score, With none but men would converse hold, And things beyond their reach explore: Like the famed Cretan, soaring high, To melt their waxen wings and die."

from the 1809 edition.