he earlier poems of the series, though Cowper's power of
writing musical verse is attested both by the occasional poems and by
_The Task_.

With the Moral Satires may be coupled, though written later,
_Tirocinium, or a Review of Schools_. Here Cowper has the advantage of
treating a subject which he understood, about which he felt strongly,
and desired for a practical purpose to stir the feelings of his
readers. He set to work in bitter earnest. "There is a sting," he
says, "in verse that prose neither has nor can have; and I do not know
that schools in the gross, and especially public schools, have ever
been so pointedly condemned before. But they are become a nuisance, a
pest, an abomination, and it is fit that the eyes and noses of mankind
should be opened if possible to perceive it." His descriptions of the
miseries which children in his day endured, and, in spite of all our
improvements, must still to some extent endure in boarding schools, and
of the effects of the system in estranging boys from their parents and
deadening home affections, are vivid and true. Of course the Public
School system was not to be overturned by rhyming, but the author of
_Tirocinium_ awakened attention to its faults, and probably did
something towards amending them. The best lines, perhaps, have been
already quoted in connexion with the history of the writer's boyhood.
There are, however, other telling passages such as that on the
indiscriminate use of emulation as a stimulus:--

Our public hives of puerile resort
That are of chief and most approved report,
To such base hopes in many a sordid soul
Owe their repute in part, but not the whole.
A principle, whose proud pretensions pass
Unquestion'd, though the jewel be but glass,
That with a world not often over-nice
Ranks as a virtue, and is yet a vice,
Or rather a gross compound, justly tried,
Of envy, hatred, jealousy, and pride,
Contributes moat perhaps to enhance their fame,
And Emulation is its precious name.
Boys once on fire with that contentious zeal
Feel all the rage that female rivals feel;
The prize of beauty in a woman's eyes
Not brighter than in theirs the scholar's prize.
The spirit of that competition burns
With all varieties of ill by turns,
Each vainly magnifies his own success,
Resents his fellow's, wishes it were less,
Exults in his miscarriage if he fail,
Deems his reward too great if he prevail,
And labours