The school-boy, with his satchel in his hand,
Whistling aloud to bear his courage up.
_The Grave_. R. BLAIR.
I do present you with a man of mine,
Cunning in music and the mathematics,
To instruct her fully in those sciences.
_Taming of the Shrew, Act ii. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.
Schoolmasters will I keep within my house,
Fit to instruct her youth....
... for, to cunning men
I will be very kind, and liberal
To mine own children in good bringing up.
_Taming of The Shrew, Act i. Sc. 1_. SHAKESPEARE.
Grave is the Master's look: his forehead wears
Thick rows of wrinkles, prints of worrying cares:
Uneasy lie the heads of all that rule,
His worst of all whose kingdom is a school.
Supreme he sits; before the awful frown
That binds his brows the boldest eye goes down;
Not more submissive Israel heard and saw
At Sinai's foot the Giver of the Law.
_The School-Boy_. O.W. HOLMES.
Besides they always smell of bread and butter.
_Manfred_. LORD BYRON.
You'd scarce expect one of my age
To speak in public on the stage;
And if I chance to fall below
Demosthenes or Cicero,
Don't view me with a critic's eye,
But pass my imperfections by.
Large streams from little fountains flow,
Tall oaks from little acorns grow.
_Lines written for a School Declamation_. D. EVERETT.
Ah! happy years! once more who would not be a boy!
_Childe Harold, Canto II_. LORD BYRON.