LXXV.

For our remembrance, and from out the plain Heaves like a long-swept wave about to break, And on the curl hangs pausing: not in vain May he, who will, his recollections rake, And quote in classic raptures, and awake The hills with Latian echoes--I abhorred Too much, to conquer for the Poet's sake,[455] The drilled dull lesson, forced down word by word In my repugnant youth,[456] with pleasure to record