N01142:127
Corderius americanus. An essay upon the good education of children. And what may hopefully…
Corderius americanus. An essay upon the good education of children. And what may hopefully be attempted, for the hope of the flock. In a funeral sermon upon Mr. Ezekiel Cheever. The ancient and Honourable master of the Free-School in Boston. Who left off, but when mortality took him off, in August, 1708. the ninety fourth year of his age. : With an elegy and an epitaph upon him. / By one that was once a scholar to him. ; [One line epigram in Latin]
Boston: printed by John Allen for Nicholas Boone, 1708
Title page typeset from the transcription.
Modern spelling is a reading aid: the words are the author’s, only the spelling is modernized. Original shows the page as printed, with the transcription marks.
Our Lads had been, but for his wondrous Cares, Boys of my Lady Mores unquiet Prayers. Sure were it not for such informing Schools, Our Lateran too would soon be filled with Owls. Tis CORLET's pains, & CHEEVER's, we must own, That thou, New-England, art not Scythia grown, The Isles of Silly had o'er-run this Day The Continent of our America.
Our Lads had been, but for his wondrous Cares, Boyes of my Lady Mores unquiet Pray'rs. Sure were it not for such informing Schools, Our Lat'ran too would soon be fill'd with Owles. Tis CORLET's pains, & CHEEVER's, we must own, That thou, New-England, art not Scythia grown, The Isles of Silly had o're-run this Day The Continent of our America.
Grammar he taught, which 'twas his work to do: But he would Hagar have her place to know.
The Bible is the Sacred Grammar, where The Rules of speaking well, contained are.
He taught us Lilly, and he Gospel taught; And us poor Children to our Saviour brought. Master of Sentences, he gave us more The we in our Sententi• had before. We Learned Good Things in Tullies Offices; But we from him Learned Better things than these. With Cato's he to us the Higher gave Lessons of JESUS, that our Souls do save. We Construed Ovid's Metamorphosis, But on our selves charged, not a Change to miss. Young Austin wept, when he saw Dido dead, Tho' not a Tear for a Lost Soul he had: Our Master would not let us be so vain, But us from Virgil did to David train, Textor's Epistles would not Clothe our Souls; Pauls too we heard; we went to School at Pauls.