Page:The Works of Lord Byron (ed. Coleridge, Prothero) - Volume 1.djvu/137

Rh To build his own, upon thy deathless fame:

Friend of my heart, and foremost of the list

Of those with whom I lived supremely blest;

Oft have we drain'd the font of ancient lore,

Though drinking deeply, thirsting still the more;

Yet, when Confinement's lingering hour was done,

Our sports, our studies, and our souls were one:

Together we impell'd the flying ball,

Together waited in our tutor's hall;

Together join'd in cricket's manly toil,

Or shar'd the produce of the river's spoil;

Or plunging from the green declining shore,

Our pliant limbs the buoyant billows bore:

In every element, unchang'd, the same,

All, all that brothers should be, but the name.

Nor, yet, are you forgot, my jocund Boy!

, the harbinger of childish joy;

For ever foremost in the ranks of fun,

The laughing herald of the harmless pun;

Yet, with a breast of such materials made,

Anxious to please, of pleasing half afraid;