I

Now that the farewell tear is dried, Heaven prosper thee, be hope thy guide! Hope be thy guide, adventurous Boy; The wages of thy travel, joy! Whether for London bound--to trill Thy mountain notes with simple skill; Or on thy head to poise a show Of Images in seemly row; The graceful form of milk-white Steed, Or Bird that soared with Ganymede;[IE] Or through our hamlets thou wilt bear The sightless Milton, with his hair Around his placid temples curled; And Shakspeare at his side--a freight, If clay could think and mind were weight, For him who bore the world! Hope be thy guide, adventurous Boy; The wages of thy travel, joy!