On Revisiting Harrow

Here once engaged the stranger’s view Young Friendship’s record simply traced; Few were her words; but yet, though few, Resentment’s hand the line defaced. Deeply she cut–but not erased, The characters were still so plain, That Friendship once return’d, and gazed,– Till Memory hail’d the words again. Repentance placed them as before; Forgiveness join d her gentle name; So fair the inscription seem’d once more, That Friendship thought it still the same. Thus might the Record now have been; But, ah, in spite of Hopes endeavour, Or Friendships tears, Pride rush’d between And blotted out the line for ever.