To — —— Sherive, Esq. Student at Oxford

When Sherive breathes, the classic bowers among,
For me the honours of the plausive song,
He wakes the hope, that dormant long had lain,
Sunk amid life’s dull cares, and grief, and pain;
The hope, that yet my verse-encircled themes,
Buoyant may rise above oblivion’s streams,
While still the guiding star of praise benign
Shall o’er the cold and darkling waters shine.