initial commit of ebook 18009HEADmain

1 files changed, 4104 insertions, 0 deletions

diff --git a/18009.txt b/18009.txt
new file mode 100644
index 0000000..58cb607
--- /dev/null
+++ b/18009.txt
@@ -0,0 +1,4104 @@
+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sagittulae, Random Verses, by E. W. Bowling
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+
+Title: Sagittulae, Random Verses
+
+Author: E. W. Bowling
+
+Release Date: March 17, 2006 [EBook #18009]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ASCII
+
+*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SAGITTULAE, RANDOM VERSES ***
+
+
+
+
+Produced by Al Haines
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+SAGITTULAE,
+
+RANDOM VERSES
+
+
+
+BY
+
+E. W. BOWLING,
+
+
+  RECTOR OF HOUGHTON CONQUEST, AND
+  LATE FELLOW OF ST. JOHN'S COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE.
+
+
+  Si dulce est desipere in loco,
+  ignosce nostro, blande lector, ioco.
+
+
+
+
+LONDON:
+
+LONGMANS, GREEN, AND CO.,
+
+PATERNOSTER ROW.
+
+CAMBRIDGE: W. METCALFE & SON, TRINITY STREET.
+
+1885.
+
+
+
+
+PREFACE.
+
+A very few of the following pieces appeared in "Punch," during the
+Consulship of Plancus.  The rest have been written by me during the
+past twenty-five years, under the signature of "Arculus," for "The
+Eagle," the Magazine of St. John's College, Cambridge.  I hope their
+reappearance will be welcome to a few of my old College friends.
+
+The general reader will probably think that some apology is due to him
+from me for publishing verses of so crude and trivial a character.
+
+I can only say that the smallest of bows should sometimes be unstrung,
+and that if my little arrows are flimsy and light they will, I trust,
+wound no one.
+
+E. W. BOWLING.
+
+
+
+
+  CONTENTS.
+
+
+  THE BATTLE OF THE PONS TRIUM TROJANORUM
+  JULIA
+  CLIO FATIDICA
+  ATHLETES AND AESTHESIS
+  A VISION
+  A MAY TERM MEMORY
+  THE MAY TERM
+  A TRAGEDY OF THE 19TH CENTURY
+  "NUNC TE BACCHE CANAM"
+  A ROMANCE IN REAL (ACADEMIC) LIFE
+  THE SENIOR FELLOW
+  A VALENTINE
+  A CURATE'S COMPLAINT
+  TEMPORA MUTANTUR
+  SIMPLEX MUNDITIIS
+  TURGIDUS ALPINUS
+  THE ALPINE CLUB MAN
+  THE MODERN CLIMBER
+  THE CLIMBER'S DREAM
+  THE BEACONSFIELD ALPHABET
+  THE GLADSTONE ALPHABET
+  SOLITUDE IN SEPTEMBER
+  MEDITATIONS OF A CLASSICAL MAN ON A MATHEMATICAL
+    PAPER DURING A LATE FELLOWSHIP EXAMINATION
+  THE LADY MARGARET 5TH BOAT (May, 1863)
+  IN CAMUM
+  FATHER CAMUS
+  IN MEMORIAM G. A. P.
+  GRANTA VICTRIX
+  THE GREAT BOAT RACE
+  LINES BY A CAMBRIDGE ANCIENT MARINER
+  THE SORROWS OF FATHER CAM
+  THE COMING BOAT RACE
+  A BALLAD
+  AN APRIL SQUALL
+  BEDFORDSHIRE BALLAD.--I.
+  BEDFORDSHIRE BALLAD.--II.
+  BEDFORDSHIRE BALLAD.--III.
+  BEDFORDSHIRE BALLAD.--IV.
+
+
+[Transcriber's note: The poems "In Camus" and "Father Camus" appear to
+be the same poem, the former in Latin; the latter in English.  In the
+original book, they are printed on facing pairs of pages, the left-hand
+page Latin, the right-hand page English.  In this e-text, each poem is
+together, and are in the same order as shown in the Table of Contents.]
+
+
+
+
+THE BATTLE OF THE PONS TRIUM TROJANORUM:
+
+_A lay sung in the Temple of Minerva Girtanensis_.
+
+
+[NOTE.--On Thursday, February 24th, 1881, three Graces were submitted
+to the Senate of the University of Cambridge, confirming the Report of
+The Syndicate appointed June 3rd, 1880, to consider four memorials
+relating to the Higher Education of Women.  The first two Graces were
+passed by majorities of 398 and 258 against 32 and 26 respectively; the
+third was unopposed.  The allusions in the following lay will probably
+be understood only by those who reside in Cambridge; but it may be
+stated that Professor Kennedy, Professor Fawcett, and Sir C. Dilke gave
+their votes and influence in favour of The Graces, while Dr.
+Guillemard, Mr. Wace, Mr. Potts, Professor Lumby, Dr. Perowne, Mr.
+Horne and Mr. Hamblin Smith voted against The Graces.]
+
+
+  I
+
+  Aemilia Girtonensis,
+    By the Nine Muses swore
+  That the great house of Girton
+    Should suffer wrong no more.
+  By the Muses Nine she swore it,
+    And named a voting day,
+  And bade her learned ladies write,
+  And summon to the impending fight
+    Their masters grave and gay.
+
+
+  II.
+
+  East and West and South and North
+    The learned ladies wrote,
+  And town and gown and country
+    Have read the martial note.
+  Shame on the Cambridge Senator
+    Who dares to lag behind,
+  When light-blue ladies call him
+    To join the march of mind.
+
+
+  III.
+
+  But by the yellow Camus
+    Was tumult and affright:
+  Straightway to Pater Varius
+    The Trojans take their flight--
+  'O Varius, Father Varius,
+    'To whom the Trojans pray,
+  'The ladies are upon us!
+    'We look to thee this day!'
+
+
+  IV.
+
+  There be thirty chosen Fellows,
+    The wisest of the land,
+  Who hard by Pater Varius
+    To bar all progress stand:
+  Evening and morn the Thirty
+    On the Three Graces sit,
+  Traced from the left by fingers deft
+    In the great Press of Pitt.
+
+
+  V.
+
+  And with one voice the Thirty
+    Have uttered their decree--
+  'Go forth, go forth, great Varius,
+    'Oppose the Graces Three!
+  'The enemy already
+    'Are quartered in the town,
+  'And if they once the Tripos gain,
+    'What hope to save the gown?'
+
+
+  VI.
+
+  'To Hiz, [1] the town of Offa,
+    'Their classes first they led,
+  'Then onward to Girtonia
+    'And Nunamantium sped:
+  'And now a mighty army
+    'Of young and beardless girls
+  'Beneath our very citadel
+    'A banner proud unfurls.'
+
+
+  VII.
+
+  Then out spake Father Varius,
+    No craven heart was his:
+  'To Pollmen and to Wranglers
+    'Death comes but once, I wis.
+  'And how can man live better,
+    'Or die with more renown,
+  'Than fighting against Progress
+    'For the rights of cap and gown?'
+
+
+  VIII.
+
+  'I, with two more to help me,
+    'Will face yon Graces Three;
+  'Will guard the Holy Tripod,
+    'And the M.A. Degree.
+  'We know that by obstruction
+    'Three may a thousand foil.
+  'Now who will stand on either hand
+    'To guard our Trojan soil?'
+
+
+  IX.
+
+  Then Parvue Mariensis,
+    Of Bearded Jove the Priest,
+  Spake out 'of Trojan warriors
+    'I am, perhaps, the least,
+  'Yet will I stand at thy right hand.'
+    Cried Pottius--'I likewise
+  'At thy left side will stem the tide
+    'Of myriad flashing eyes.
+
+
+  X.
+
+  Meanwhile the Ladies' Army,
+    Right glorious to behold,
+  Came clad in silks and satins bright,
+    With seal-skins and with furs bedight,
+  And gems and rings of gold.
+    Four hundred warriors shouted
+  'Placet' with fiendish glee,
+    As that fair host with fairy feet,
+    And smiles unutterably sweet,
+    Came tripping each towards her seat,
+  Where stood the dauntless Three.
+
+
+  XI.
+
+  The Three stood calm and silent,
+    And frowned upon their foes,
+  As a great shout of laughter
+    From the four hundred rose:
+  And forth three chiefs came spurring
+    Before their ladies gay,
+  They faced the Three, they scowled and scoffed,
+  Their gowns they donned, their caps they doffed,
+    Then sped them to the fray.
+
+
+  XII.
+
+  Generalis Post-Magister,
+    Lord of the Letter-bags;
+  And Dilkius Radicalis,
+    Who ne'er in combat lags;
+  And Graecus Professorius,
+    Beloved of fair Sabrine,
+  From the grey Elms--beneath whose shade
+  A hospitable banquet laid,
+  Had heroes e'en of cowards made.--
+    Brought 'placets' thirty-nine.
+
+
+  XIII
+
+  Stout Varius hurled 'non placet'
+    At Post-Magister's head:
+  At the mere glance of Pottius
+    Fierce Radicalis fled:
+  And Parvus Mariensis--
+    So they who heard him tell--
+  Uttered but one false quantity,
+    And Professorius fell!
+
+        *      *      *      *
+
+  XIV.
+
+  But fiercer still and fiercer
+    Fresh foemen sought the fray.
+  And fainter still and fainter
+    Stout Varius stood at bay.
+  'O that this too, too solid
+    Flesh would dissolve,' he sighed;
+  Yet still he stood undaunted,
+    And still the foe defied.
+
+
+  XV.
+
+  Then Pollia Nunamensis,
+    A student sweetly fair,
+  Famed for her smiles and dimples
+    Blue eyes and golden hair,
+    Of Cupid's arrows seized a pair,
+        One in each eye she took:
+    Cupid's best bow with all her might
+    She pulled--each arrow winged its flight,
+    And straightway reason, sense, and sight
+        Stout Varius forsook.
+
+
+  XVI.
+
+  'He falls'--the Placets thundered,
+    And filled the yawning gap;
+  In vain his trusty comrades
+    Avenge their chief's mishap--
+        His last great fight is done.
+  'They charge!  Brave Pottius prostrate lies,
+  No Rider helps him to arise:
+  They charge!  Fierce Mariensis dies.
+        The Bridge, the Bridge is won!
+
+
+  XVII.
+
+  In vain did Bencornutus
+    Flash lightnings from his beard;
+  In vain Fabrorum Maximus
+    His massive form upreared;
+  And Lumbius Revisorius--
+    Diviner potent he!--
+  And Peronatus robed in state,
+  And fine old Fossilis sedate,
+  All vainly stemmed the tide of fate--
+        Triumphed the Graces Three!
+
+
+  XVIII.
+
+  But when in future ages
+    Women have won their rights,
+  And sweet girl-undergraduates
+    Read through the lamp-lit nights;
+  When some, now unborn, Pollia
+    Her head with science crams;
+  When the girls make Greek Iambics,
+    And the boys black-currant jams;
+
+
+  XIX.
+
+  When the goodman's shuttle merrily
+    Goes flashing through the loom,
+  And the good wife reads her Plato
+    In her own sequestered room;
+  With weeping and with laughter
+    Still shall the tale be told,
+  How pretty Pollia won the Bridge
+    In the brave days of old.
+
+  (1881).
+
+[1] The ancient name of Hitchin.
+
+
+
+
+  JULIA.
+
+  An Ode.
+
+[NOTE.--The following imitation of Cowper's _Boadicea_ was written in
+1858; most of its predictions have since been fulfilled.]
+
+  When the Cambridge flower-show ended,
+    And the flowers and guests were gone,
+  And the evening shades descended,
+    Roamed a man forlorn alone.
+
+  Sage beside the River slow
+    Sat the Don renowned for lore
+  And in accents soft and low
+    To the elms his love did pour.
+
+  "Julia, if my learned eyes
+    Gaze upon thy matchless face:
+  'Tis because I feel there lies
+    Magic in thy lovely grace.
+
+  "I will marry! write that threat
+    In the ink I daily waste:
+  Marry--pay each College debt--
+    College Ale no more will taste.
+
+  "Granta, far and wide renowned,
+    Frowns upon the married state;
+  Soon her pride shall kiss the ground
+    Hark!  Reform is at the gate.
+
+  "Other Fellows shall arise,
+    Proud to own a husband's name:
+  Proud to own their infants' cries--
+    Harmony the path to fame.
+
+  "Then the progeny that springs
+    From our ancient College walls,
+  Armed with trumpets, noisy things,
+    Shall astound us by their squalls.
+
+  "Sounds no wrangler yet has heard,
+    Our posterity shall fright:
+  E'en 'the Eagle,' [1] valiant bird,
+    Shall betake itself to flight."
+
+  Such the thoughts that through him whirl'd
+    Pensively reclining there:
+  Smiling, as his fingers curled
+    His divinely-glowing hair.
+
+  He, with all a lover's pride,
+    Felt his manly bosom glow,
+  Sought the Bull, besought the Bride,
+    All she said was "No, Sir, No!"
+
+  Julia, pitiless as cold,
+    Lo the vengeance due from Heaven!
+  College Living he doth hold;
+    Single bliss to thee is given.
+
+[1] "The Eagle" is the well-known Magazine of St. John's College,
+Cambridge.
+
+
+
+
+CLIO FATIDICA.
+
+[NOTE.--The following lines were written to celebrate the 'bump' by
+which the Lady Margaret 1st Boat became "Head of the River" in 1871.
+On the next evening Professor Selwyn delighted the eyes and the hearts
+of all Johnians by sculling down the river to salute the Head of the
+River.  The title of _psychroloutes_ [*] needs no explanation to those
+who know the Selwyns, who are no less renowned as swimmers than as
+oarsmen.]
+
+
+  "Tell me, Muse, what colour floateth round
+      the River's ancient head:
+  Is it white and black, or white and blue, is it
+      scarlet, blue, or red?"
+  Thus I prayed, and Clio answered, "Why, I thought
+      the whole world knew
+  That the red of Margareta had deposed the flag
+      of blue!
+  Babes unborn shall sing in rapture how, desiring
+      Close [1] affinity,
+  Goldie, rowing nearly fifty, overlapped, and bumped
+      First Trinity.
+  I myself was at the Willows, and beheld the victory won;
+  Saw the victor's final effort, and the deed of daring done.
+  I myself took off my bonnet, and forgetful of my years,
+  Patting Goldie on the shoulder, gave him three
+      times thrice three cheers.
+  Ne'er, oh! ne'er, shall be forgotten the excitement
+      of that night;
+  Aged Dons, deem'd stony-hearted, wept with
+      rapture at the sight:
+  E'en the Master of a College, as he saw them overlap,
+  Shouted 'Well rowed, Lady Margaret,' and took
+      off his College cap;
+  And a Doctor of Divinity, in his Academic garb,
+  Sang a solemn song of triumph, as he lashed his
+      gallant barb;
+  Strong men swooned, and small boys whistled,
+      sympathetic hounds did yell
+  Lovely maidens smiled their sweetest on the men
+      who'd rowed so well:
+  Goldie, Hibbert, Lang, and Bonsey, Sawyer,
+      Burnside, Harris, Brooke;
+  And the pride of knighthood, Bayard, who the
+      right course ne'er forsook,
+  But the sight which most rejoiced me was the
+      well-known form aquatic
+  Of a scholar famed for boating and for witticisms Attic.
+  Proud, I ween, was Lady Margaret her Professor
+      there to view,
+  As with words of wit and wisdom he regaled the
+      conquering crew.
+  Proud, I ween, were Cam and Granta, as they
+      saw once more afloat
+  Their Etonian _psychroloutes_ [*], in his "Funny"
+      little boat.
+  Much, I ween, their watery spirits did within
+      their heart's rejoice,
+  As they listened to the music of that deep and
+      mellow voice.
+  Ah! 'tis well, to sing of boating, when before
+      my swimming eyes
+  Baleful visions of the future, woes unutterable rise.
+  All our palmy days are over; for the fairer, feebler sex
+  Has determined every College in succession to annex;
+  And before another decade has elapsed, our eyes shall see
+  College Tutors wearing thimbles o'er convivial cups of tea.
+  For 'golden-haired girl-graduates,' with 'Dowagers
+      for Dons,'
+  Shall tyrannize in Trinity, and domineer in 'John's.'
+  Then, instead of May Term races in the science grand
+      of rowing,
+  There'll be constant competition in the subtle art
+      of sewing.
+  Soon the modern undergraduate, with a feather in her hat,
+  Shall parade the streets of Cambridge, followed
+      by her faithful cat.
+  From Parker's Piece and Former's shall be banished
+      bat and wicket,
+  For crotchet work and knitting shall supplant the
+      game of cricket,
+  Save whene'er a match at croquet once a Term is
+      played at Girton
+  By the Members of "the College" and the Moralists
+      of Merton.
+  Then no tandems shall be driven, and no more
+      athletic sports,
+  Save fancy balls and dances, shall appear in
+      "Field" reports:
+  And instead of 'pots' and 'pewters' to promote
+      the art of walking,
+  We shall have a silver medal for proficiency in talking.
+  Wranglers fair shall daily wrangle, who no
+      Mathematics ken;
+  Lady preachers fill the pulpit, lady critics
+      wield the pen.
+  O ye gallant, gallant heroes who the River's
+      head have won,
+  Little know ye what an era of confusion hath begun.
+  I myself shall flee from Cambridge, sick at heart
+      and sorely vexed,
+  Ere I see my University disestablished and unsexed.'"
+  Thus she spake, and I endeavoured to console the
+      weeping Muse:
+  "Dry your tears, beloved Clio, drive away this
+      fit of blues.
+  Cease your soul with gloomy fancies and forebodings
+      to perplex;
+  You are doing gross injustice to the merits of your sex.
+  Know you not that things are changing, that the
+      Earth regains her youth,
+  Since Philosophers have brought to light the one
+      primeval truth?
+  Long have all things been misgoverned by the
+      foolish race of men,
+  Who've monopolized sword, sceptre, mitre, ermine,
+      spade, and pen,
+  All the failures, all the follies, that the weary
+      world bewails,
+  Have arisen, trust me, simply from the government of males.
+  But a brighter age is dawning; in the circling of the years
+  Lordly woman sees before her new 'ambitions,' new careers;
+  For the world's regeneration instantaneously began,
+  When Philosophers discovered the inferior claims of man.
+  With new honours Alma Mater shall eternally be crowned,
+  When the Ladies march in triumph, and her learned
+      seat surround;
+  Then a nobler race of students, and of athletes
+      shall arise,
+  Students fair who thirst for knowledge, athletes
+      true who 'pots' despise.
+  It is well for thee, sweet Clio, at their harmless
+      tastes to sneer,
+  At their love of cats and croquet, their antipathy
+      to beer;
+  But as soon as every College has surrendered to the fair,
+  Life up here will be perfection, we shall breathe
+      ambrosial air;
+  For the problem of past ages will be solved, and
+      we shall find
+  The superior powers of woman, both in body and in mind.
+  She shall teach us how to study, how to ride,
+      and run, and row;
+  How to box and play at cricket; how the heavy
+      weight to throw;
+  How to shoot the trembling pigeon; how the wily rat
+      to slay;
+  How at football and at racquets; how at whist and
+      chess to play;
+  How to drive the rapid tandem; how to jump, and how
+      to walk;
+  (For young women, trust me, Clio, can do something
+      more than talk)
+  How to climb the Alps in summer; how in winter time
+      to skate;
+  How to hold the deadly rifle; how a yacht to navigate;
+  How to make the winning hazard with an effort sure
+      and strong;
+  How to play the maddening comet, how to sing a comic song;
+  How to 'utilize' Professors; how to purify the Cam;
+  How to brew a sherry cobbler, and to make red-currant jam.
+  All the arts which now we practise in a desultory way
+  Shall be taught us to perfection, when we own the
+      Ladies' sway."
+  Thus I spake, and strove by speaking to assuage
+      sweet Clio's fears;
+  But she shook her head in sorrow, and departed drowned
+      in tears.
+
+  (1874).
+
+
+[1] Mr. J. B. Close, a well-known oarsman, stroke of the First Trinity
+1st Boat.
+
+[*] [Transcriber's note: The word "psychroloutes" appears in the
+original book in Greek.  It has been transliterated from the Greek
+letters psi, upsilon, chi, rho, omicron, lambda, omicron, upsilon, tau,
+eta, and sigma.]
+
+
+
+
+  ATHLETES AND AESTHESIS.
+
+  _An Idyll of the Cam_.
+
+
+  It was an Undergraduate, his years were scarce nineteen;
+  Discretion's years and wisdom's teeth he plainly ne'er had seen;
+  For his step was light and jaunty, and around him wide and far
+  He puffed the fragrant odours of a casual cigar.
+
+  It was a sweet girl-graduate, her years were thirty two;
+  Her brow was intellectual, her whole appearance blue;
+  Her dress was mediaeval, and, as if by way of charm,
+  Six volumes strapped together she was bearing 'neath her arm.
+
+  'My beautiful Aesthesis,' the young man rashly cried,
+  'I am the young Athletes, of Trinity the pride;
+  I have large estates in Ireland, which ere long
+      will pay me rent;
+  I have rooms in Piccadilly, and a farm (unlet) in Kent.
+
+  'My achievements thou hast heard of, how I chalk the wily cue,
+  Pull an oar, and wield the willow, and have won my double-blue;
+  How I ride, and play lawn tennis; how I make a claret cup;
+  Own the sweetest of bull terriers, and a grand St. Bernard pup.
+
+  'But believe me, since I've seen thee, all these
+      pleasures are a bore;
+  Life has now one only object fit to love and to adore;
+  Long in silence have I worshipped, long in secret have I sighed:
+  Tell me, beautiful Aesthesis, wilt thou be my blooming bride?'
+
+  'Sir Student,' quoth the maiden, 'you are really quite intense,
+  And I ever of this honour shall retain the highest sense;
+  But forgive me, if I venture'--faintly blushing thus she spoke--
+  'Is not true love inconsistent with tobacco's mundane smoke?'
+
+  'Perish all that comes between us,' cried Athletes, as he threw
+  His weed full fifty paces in the stream of Camus blue:
+  The burning weed encountered the cold river with the hiss
+  Which ensues when fire and water, wranglers old, are forced to kiss.
+
+  'Sir Student, much I thank thee,' said the Lady, 'thou hast shown
+  The fragrance of a lily, or of petals freshly blown;
+  But before to thee I listen there are questions not a few
+  Which demand from thee an answer satisfactory and true.'
+
+  'Fire away,' exclaimed Athletes, 'I will do the best I can;
+  But remember, gentle Maiden, that I'm not a reading man;
+  So your humble servant begs you, put your questions pretty plain,
+  For my Tutors all assure me I'm not overstocked with brain.
+
+  'Sir Student' cried the Lady, and her glance was stern and high,
+  Hast thou felt the soft vibration of a summer sunset sky?
+  Art thou soulful?  Art thou tuneful?  Cans't thou
+      weep o'er nature's woes?
+  Art thou redolent of Ruskin?  Dost thou love a yellow rose?
+
+  'Hast thou bathed in emanations from the canvass of Burne Jones?
+  As thou gazest at a Whistler, doth it whistle wistful tones?
+  Art thou sadly sympathetic with a symphony in blue?
+  Tell me, tell me, gentle Student, art thou really quite tootoo?'
+
+  ''Pon my word,' replied the Student, 'this is coming
+      it too strong:
+  I can sketch a bit at Lecture, and can sing a comic song;
+  But my head with all these subjects 'tis impossible to cram;
+  So, my beautiful Aesthesis, you must take me as I am.'
+
+  'Wilt thou come into my parlour,' sweetly blushing
+      asked the Maid,
+  'To my little bower in Girton, where a table shall be laid?
+  Pen and paper I will bring thee, and whatever thou shalt ask,
+  That is lawful, shall be granted for performance of thy task.'
+
+  Lightly leapt the young Athletes from his seat beside the Cam:
+  'This is tempting me, by Jingo, to submit to an Exam!
+  So it's time, my learned Lady, you and I should say good-bye'--
+  And he stood with indignation and wild terror in his eye.
+
+  They parted, and Athletes had not left her very far,
+  Ere again he puffed the odours of a casual cigar;
+  But he oftentimes lamented, as to manhood's years he grew,
+  'What a pity such a stunner was so spoilt by being blue!'
+
+  And Aesthesis, as she watched him with his swinging manly stride,
+  The 'double-blue' Athletes, of Trinity the pride,
+  Found it difficult entirely to eradicate love's dart,
+  As she listened to thy Lecture, Slade Professor of Fine Art.
+
+  And Ruskin, and the warblings of Whistler and Burne Jones,
+  And symphonies in colours, and sunset's silent tones,
+  Move her not as once they moved her, for she weeps in sorrow sore,
+  'O had I loved Athletes less, or he loved culture more!'
+
+  (1882).
+
+
+
+
+  A VISION.
+
+  As hard at work I trimmed the midnight lamp,
+    Yfilling of mine head with classic lore,
+  Mine hands firm clasped upon my temples damp,
+    Methought I heard a tapping at the door;
+  'Come in,' I cried, with most unearthly rore,
+    Fearing a horrid Dun or Don to see,
+  Or Tomkins, that unmitigated bore,
+    Whom I love not, but who alas! loves me,
+  And cometh oft unbid and drinketh of my tea.
+
+  'Come in,' I rored; when suddenly there rose
+    A magick form before my dazzled eyes:
+  'Or do I wake,' I asked myself 'or doze'?
+    Or hath an angel come in mortal guise'?
+  So wondered I; but nothing mote surmise;
+    Only I gazed upon that lovely face,
+  In reverence yblent with mute surprise:
+    Sure never yet was seen such wondrous grace,
+  Since Adam first began to run his earthlie race.
+
+  Her hands were folded on her bosom meek;
+    Her sweet blue eyes were lifted t'ward the skie;
+  Her lips were parted, yet she did not speak;
+    Only at times she sighed, or seemed to sigh:
+  In all her 'haviour was there nought of shy;
+    Yet well I wis no Son of Earth would dare,
+  To look with love upon that lofty eye;
+    For in her beauty there was somewhat rare,
+  A something that repell'd an ordinary stare.
+
+  Then did she straight a snowycloth disclose
+    Of samite, which she placed upon a chair:
+  Then, smiling like a freshly-budding rose,
+    She gazed upon me with a witching air,
+  As mote a Cynic anchorite ensnare.
+    Eftsoons, as though her thoughts she could not smother,
+  She hasted thus her mission to declare:--
+    'Please, these is your clean things I've brought instead of brother,
+  'And if you'll pay the bill you'll much oblige my mother.'
+
+  (1860).
+
+
+
+
+  A MAY TERM MEMORY.
+
+  She wore a sweet pink bonnet,
+    The sweetest ever known:
+  And as I gazed upon it,
+    My heart was not my own.
+  For--I know not why or wherefore--
+    A pink bonnet put on well,
+  Tho' few other things I care for,
+    Acts upon me like a spell.
+
+  'Twas at the May Term Races
+    That first I met her eye:
+  Amid a thousand Graces
+    No form with her's could vie.
+  On Grassy's sward enamelled
+    She reigned fair Beauty's Queen;
+  And every heart entrammell'd
+    With the charms of sweet eighteen.
+
+  Once more I saw that Bonnet--
+    'Twas on the King's Parade--
+  Once more I gazed upon it,
+    And silent homage paid.
+  She knew not I was gazing;
+    She passed unheeding by;
+  While I, in trance amazing,
+    Stood staring at the sky.
+
+  The May Term now is over:
+    That Bonnet has 'gone down';
+  And I'm myself a rover,
+    Far from my Cap and Gown.
+  But I dread the Long Vacation,
+    And its work by night and day,
+  After all the dissipation
+    Energetic of the May.
+
+  For _x_ and _y_ will vanish,
+    When that Bonnet I recall;
+  And a vision fair will banish,
+    Newton, Euclid, and Snowball.
+  And a gleam of tresses golden,
+    And of eyes divinely blue,
+  Will interfere with Holden,
+    And my Verse and Prose imbue.
+
+        *      *      *      *
+
+  These sweet girl graduate beauties,
+    With their bonnets and their roses,
+  Will mar ere long the duties
+    Which Granta wise imposes.
+  Who, when such eyes are shining,
+    Can quell his heart's sensations;
+  Or turn without repining
+    To Square Root and Equations?
+
+  And when conspicuous my name
+    By absence shall appear;
+  When I have lost all hopes of fame,
+    Which once I held so dear;
+  When 'plucked' I seek a vain relief
+    In plaintive dirge or sonnet;
+  Thou wilt have caused that bitter grief,
+    Thou beautiful Pink Bonnet!
+
+  (1866).
+
+
+
+
+  THE MAY TERM.
+
+  Mille venit variis florum Dea nexa coronis:
+    Scena ioci morem liberioris habet.
+
+  OV. FAST. IV. 945, 946.
+
+
+  I wish that the May Term were over,
+    That its wearisome pleasures were o'er,
+  And I were reclining in clover
+    On the downs by a wave-beaten shore:
+  For fathers and mothers by dozens,
+    And sisters, a host without end,
+  Are bringing up numberless cousins,
+    Who have each a particular friend.
+
+  I'm not yet confirmed in misogyny--
+    They are all very well in their way--
+  But my heart is as hard as mahogany,
+    When I think of the ladies in May.
+  I shudder at each railway-whistle,
+    Like a very much victimized lamb;
+  For I know that the carriages bristle
+    With ladies invading the Cam.
+
+  Last week, as in due preparation
+    For reading I sported my door,
+  With surprise and no small indignation,
+    I picked up this note on the floor--
+  'Dear E. we are coming to see you,
+    'So get us some lunch if you can;
+  'We shall take you to Grassy, as Jehu--
+    'Your affectionate friend, Mary Ann.'
+
+  Affectionate friend!  I'm disgusted
+    With proofs of affection like these,
+  I'm growing 'old, tawny and crusted,'
+    Tho' my nature is easy to please.
+  An Englishman's home is his castle,
+    So I think that my friend Mary Ann
+  Should respect, tho' she deem him her vassal,
+    The rooms of a reading young man.
+
+  In the days of our fathers how pleasant
+    The May Term up here must have been!
+  No chignons distracting were present,
+    And scarcely a bonnet was seen.
+  As the boats paddled round Grassy Corner
+    No ladies examined the crews,
+  Or exclaimed with the voice of the scorner--
+    'Look, _how_ Mr. Arculus screws!!
+
+  But now there are ladies in College,
+    There are ladies in Chapels and Halls;
+  No doubt 'tis a pure love of knowledge
+    That brings them within our old walls;
+  For they talk about Goldie's 'beginning';
+    Know the meaning of 'finish' and 'scratch,'
+  And will bet even gloves on our winning
+    The Boat Race, Athletics, or Match.
+
+  There's nothing but music and dancing,
+    Bands playing on each College green;
+  And bright eyes are merrily glancing
+    Where nothing but books should be seen.
+  They tell of a grave Dean a fable,
+    That reproving an idle young man
+  He faltered, for on his own table
+    He detected in horror--a fan!
+
+  Through Libraries, Kitchens, Museums,
+    These Prussian-like Amazons rush,
+  Over manuscripts, joints, mausoleums,
+    With equal intensity gush.
+  Then making their due 'requisition,'
+    From 'the lions' awhile they refrain,
+  And repose in the perfect fruition
+    Of ices, cold fowl, and champagne.
+
+  Mr. Editor, answer my question--
+    When, O when, shall this tyranny cease?
+  Shall the process of mental digestion
+    Ne'er find from the enemy peace?
+  Above all if my name you should guess, Sir,
+    Keep it quite to yourself, if you can;
+  For I dread, more than words can express, Sir,
+    My affectionate friend Mary Ann.
+
+  (1871).
+
+
+
+
+  A TRAGEDY OF THE 19TH CENTURY.
+
+  "Et potis es nigrum vitio praefigere Delta."--PERSIUS.
+
+
+  It was a young Examiner, scarce thirty were his years,
+  His name our University loves, honours, and reveres:
+  He pondered o'er some papers, and a tear stood in his eye;
+  He split his quill upon the desk, and raised a bitter cry--
+  'O why has Fortune struck me down with this unearthly blow?
+  "Why doom'd me to examine in my lov'd one's Little-go?
+  "O Love and Duty, sisters twain, in diverse ways ye pull;
+  "I dare not 'pass,' I scarce can 'pluck:' my cup of woe
+      is full.
+  "O that I ever should have lived this dismal day to see"!
+  He knit his brow, and nerved his hand, and wrote the fatal D.
+
+        *      *      *      *      *      *
+
+  It was a lovely maiden down in Hertford's lovely shire;
+  Before her on a reading-desk, lay many a well-filled quire:
+  The lamp of genius lit her eyes; her years were twenty-two;
+  Her brow was high, her cheek was pale,
+      her bearing somewhat blue:
+  She pondered o'er a folio, and laboured to divine
+  The mysteries of "_x_" and "_y_," and many a magic sign:
+  Yet now and then she raised her eye, and ceased
+      awhile to ponder,
+  And seem'd as though inclined to allow her thoughts
+      elsewhere to wander,
+  A step was heard, she closed her book; her heart
+      beat high and fast,
+  As through the court and up the stairs a manly figure passed.
+  One moment more, the opening door disclosed unto her view
+  Her own beloved Examiner, her friend and lover true.
+  "Tell me, my own Rixator, is it First or Second Class?"
+  His firm frame shook, he scarce could speak,
+      he only sigh'd "Alas!"
+  She gazed upon him with an air serenely calm and proud--
+  "Nay, tell me all, I fear it not"--he murmured
+      sadly "Ploughed."
+  She clasped her hands, she closed her eyes as fell
+      the word of doom;
+  Full five times round in silence did she pace her little room;
+  Then calmly sat before her books, and sigh'd "Rixator dear,
+  "Give me the list of subjects to be studied for next year."
+
+  "My own brave Mathematica, my pupil and my pride,
+  "My persevering Student whom I destine for my bride;
+  "Love struggled hard with Duty, while the lover marked you B;
+  "In the end the stern Examiner prevailed and gave you D.
+  "Mine was the hand that dealt the blow!  Alas, against my will
+  "I plucked you in Arithmetic--and can'st thou love me still?"
+  She gazed upon him and her eye was full of love and pride--
+  "Nay these are but the trials, Love, by which
+      true love is tried.
+
+  "I never knew your value true, until you marked me D:
+  "D stands for dear, and dear to me you evermore shall be."
+
+        *      *      *      *      *      *
+
+  A year had passed, and she had passed, for morning,
+      noon, and night,
+  Her Euclid and her Barnard-Smith had been her sole delight.
+  Soon "Baccalaurea Artium" was added to her name,
+  And Hitchin's groves, and Granta's courts resounded
+      with her fame;
+  And when Rixator hurried down one day by the express,
+  And asked if she would have him, I believe she answered "Yes."
+  For now they live together, and a wiser, happier pair,
+  More learned and more loving, can scarce be found elsewhere;
+  And they teach their children Euclid, and
+      their babies all can speak
+  French and German in their cradles, and at five
+      can write good Greek;
+  And he is a Professor and she Professoress,
+  And they never cease the Little-go in gratitude to bless;
+  When love could not the Lover from the path of duty sway,
+  And no amount of plucking could his Student fair dismay.
+
+
+  MORAL.
+
+  Faint heart ne'er won fair lady, if in love you would
+      have luck,
+  In wooing, as in warfare, trust in nothing else than pluck.
+
+  (1871).
+
+
+
+
+  "NUNC TE BACCHE CANAM."
+
+  'Tis done!  Henceforth nor joy nor woe
+    Can make or mar my fate;
+  I gaze around, above, below,
+    And all is desolate.
+  Go, bid the shattered pine to bloom;
+    The mourner to be merry;
+  But bid no ray to cheer the tomb
+    In which my hopes I bury!
+
+  I never thought the world was fair;
+    That 'Truth must reign victorious';
+  I knew that Honesty was rare;
+    Wealth only meritorious.
+  I knew that Women _might_ deceive,
+    And _sometimes_ cared for money;
+  That Lovers who in Love believe
+    Find gall as well as honey.
+
+  I knew that "wondrous Classic lore"
+    Meant something most pedantic;
+  That Mathematics were a bore,
+    And Morals un-romantic.
+  I knew my own beloved light-blue
+    Might much improve their rowing:
+  In fact, I knew a thing or two
+    Decidedly worth knowing.
+
+  But thou!--Fool, fool, I thought that thou
+    At least wert something glorious;
+  I saw thy polished ivory brow,
+    And could not feel censorious.
+  I thought I saw thee smile--but that
+    Was all imagination;
+  Upon the garden seat I sat,
+    And gazed in adoration.
+
+  I plucked a newly-budding rose,
+    Our lips then met together;
+  We spoke not--but a lover knows
+    How lips two lives can tether.
+  We parted!  I believed thee true;
+    I asked for no love-token;
+  But now thy form no more I view--
+    My Pipe, my Pipe, thou'rt broken!
+
+  Broken!--and when the Sun's warm rays
+    Illumine hill and heather,
+  I think of all the pleasant days
+    We might have had together.
+  When Lucifer's phosphoric beam
+    Shines e'er the Lake's dim water,
+  O then, my Beautiful, I dream
+    Of thee, the salt sea's daughter.
+
+  O why did Death thy beauty snatch
+    And leave me lone and blighted,
+  Before the Hymeneal match
+    Our young loves had united?
+  I knew thou wert not made of clay,
+    I loved thee with devotion,
+  Soft emanation of the spray!
+    Bright, foam-born child of Ocean!
+
+  One night I saw an unknown star,
+    Methought it gently nodded;
+  I saw, or seemed to see, afar
+    Thy spirit disembodied.
+  Cleansed from the stain of smoke and oil,
+    My tears it bade me wipe,
+  And there, relieved from earthly toil,
+    I saw my Meerschaum pipe.
+
+  Men offer me the noisome weed;
+    But nought can calm my sorrow;
+  Nor joy nor misery I heed;
+    I care not for the morrow.
+  Pipeless and friendless, tempest-tost
+    I fade, I faint, I languish;
+  He only who has loved and lost
+    Can measure all my anguish.
+
+
+
+
+  A ROMANCE IN REAL (ACADEMIC) LIFE.
+
+  By the waters of Cam, as the shades were descending,
+    A Fellow sat moaning his desolate lot;
+  From his sad eyes were flowing salt rivulets, blending
+    Their tide with the river which heeded them not--
+
+  "O! why did I leave,"--thus he wearily muttered--
+    "The silent repose, and the shade of my books,
+  Where the voice of a woman no sound ever uttered,
+    And I ne'er felt the magic of feminine looks?
+
+  "Then I rose when the east with Aurora was ruddy;
+    Took a plunge in my Pliny; collated a play;
+  No breakfast I ate, for I found in each study
+    A collation which lasted me all through the day.
+
+  "I know not what temptress first came to my garden
+    Of Eden, and lured me stern wisdom to leave;
+  But I rather believe that a sweet 'Dolly Varden'
+    Came into my rooms on a soft summer eve.
+
+  "From that hour to this, dresses silken and satin
+    Seem to rustle around me, like wings in a dream;
+  And eyes of bright blue, as I lecture in Latin,
+    Fill my head with ideas quite remote from my theme.
+
+  "My life was once lonely, and almost ascetic;
+    But now, if I venture to walk in the street,
+  With her books in her hand, some fair Peripatetic
+    Is sure to address me with whisperings sweet.
+
+  "O, dear DR. OXYTONE, tell me the meaning
+    Of this terrible phrase, which I cannot make out;
+  And what is the Latin for "reaping" and "gleaning?"
+    Is "podagra" the Greek, or the Latin for "gout?"
+
+  "'And what do you mean by "paroemiac bases?"
+    Did the ladies in Athens wear heels very high?
+  _Do_ give me the rules for Greek accents, and Crasis?
+    Did CORNELIA drive out to dine in a fly?
+
+  "'When were bonnets first worn? was the toga becoming?
+    Were woman's rights duly respected in Rome?
+  What tune was that horrible Emperor strumming,
+    When all was on fire--was it _Home, Sweet Home_?"
+
+  "Such questions as these (sweetest questions!) assail me,
+    When I walk on our Trumpington-Road-Rotten-Row;
+  The voice of the charmer ne'er ceases to hail me
+    (Is it _wisely_ she charmeth?) wherever I go.
+
+  "Locked up in my rooms, I sigh wearily '_ohe!_'
+    But cards, notes, and letters pour in by each post;
+  From PHYLLIS, EUPHROSYNE, PHIDYLE, CHLOE,
+    AMARYLLIS and JANE, and a numberless host.
+
+  "And now, I must take either poison or blue-pill,
+    For things cannot last very long as they are."
+  He ceased, as the exquisite form of a pupil
+    Dawned upon him, serene as a beautiful star.
+
+  Much of syntax and "accidence moving" our Fellow
+    Discoursed as they sat by the murmuring stream,
+  Till, as young _Desdemona_ was charmed by _Othello_,
+    She listened, as one who is dreaming a dream.
+
+        *      *      *      *      *      *
+  Now he, who was once a confirmed woman-hater,
+    Sees faces around him far dearer than books;
+  And no longer a Coelebs, but husband and "pater,"
+    Lauds in Latin and Greek MRS. OXYTONE'S looks.
+
+  (1871)
+
+
+
+
+  THE SENIOR FELLOW.
+
+  When the shades of eve descending
+    Throw o'er cloistered courts their gloom,
+  Dimly with the twilight blending
+    Memories long forgotten loom.
+  From the bright fire's falling embers
+    Faces smile that smiled of yore;
+  Till my heart again remembers
+    Hopes and thoughts that live no more.
+
+  Then again does manhood's vigour
+    Nerve my arm with iron strength;
+  As of old when trained with rigour
+    We beat Oxford by a length.
+  Once again the willow wielding
+    Do I urge the flying ball;
+  Till "lost ball" the men who're fielding
+    Hot and weary faintly call.
+
+  Then I think of hours of study,
+    Study silent as the tomb,
+  Till the rays of morning ruddy
+    Shone within my lonely room.
+  Once again my heart is burning
+    With ambition's restless glow;
+  And long hidden founts of learning
+    O'er my thirsty spirit flow.
+
+  Soon fresh scenes my fancy people,
+    For I see a wooded hill;
+  See above the well-known steeple;
+    Hear below the well-known rill;
+  Joyous sounds each gale is bringing,
+    Wafted on its fragrant breath;
+  Hark!  I hear young voices singing,
+    Voices silent now in death.
+
+  Brothers, sisters, loved and loving,
+    Hold me in their fond embrace;
+  Half forgiving, half reproving,
+    I can see my Mother's face,
+  Mid a night of raven tresses,
+    Through the gloom two sad eyes shine;
+  And my hand a soft hand presses,
+    And a heart beats close to mine.
+
+  In mine ears a voice is ringing,
+    Sweeter far than earthly strain,
+  Heavenly consolation bringing
+    From the land that knows no pain,
+  And when slowly from me stealing
+    Fades that vision into air,
+  Every pulse beats with the feeling
+    That a Spirit loved was there.
+
+
+
+
+  A VALENTINE.
+
+  O how shall I write a love-ditty
+    To my Alice on Valentine's day?
+  How win the affection or pity
+    Of a being so lively and gay?
+  For I'm an unpicturesque creature,
+    Fond of pipes and port wine and a doze
+  Without a respectable feature,
+    With a squint and a very queer nose.
+
+  But she is a being seraphic,
+    Full of fun, full of frolic and mirth;
+  Who can talk in a manner most graphic
+    Every possible language on earth.
+  When she's roaming in regions Italic,
+    You would think her a fair Florentine;
+  She speaks German like Schiller; and Gallic
+    Better far than Rousseau or Racine.
+
+  She sings--sweeter far than a cymbal
+    (A sound which I never have heard);
+  She plays--and her fingers most nimble
+    Make music more soft than a bird.
+  She speaks--'tis like melody stealing
+    O'er the Mediterranean sea;
+  She smiles--I am instantly kneeling
+    On each gouty and corpulent knee.
+
+  'Tis night! the pale moon shines in heaven
+    (Where else it should shine I don't know),
+  And like fire-flies the Pleiades seven
+    Are winking at mortals below:
+  Let them wink, if they like it, for ever,
+    My heart they will ne'er lead astray;
+  Nor the soft silken memories sever,
+    Which bind me to Alice De Grey.
+
+  If I roam thro' the dim Coliseum,
+    Her fairy form follows me there;
+  If I list to the solemn "Te Deum,"
+    Her voice seems to join in the prayer.
+  "Sweet spirit" I seem to remember,
+    O would she were near me to hum it;
+  As I heard her in sunny September,
+    On the Rigi's aerial summit!
+
+  O Alice where art thou?  No answer
+    Comes to cheer my disconsolate heart;
+  Perhaps she has married a lancer,
+    Or a bishop, or baronet smart;
+  Perhaps, as the Belle of the ball-room,
+    She is dancing, nor thinking of me;
+  Or riding in front of a small groom;
+    Or tossed in a tempest at sea;
+
+  Or listening to sweet Donizetti,
+    In Venice, or Rome, or La Scala;
+  Or walking alone on a jetty;
+    Or buttering bread in a parlour;
+  Perhaps, at our next merry meeting,
+    She will find me dull, married, and gray;
+  So I'll send her this juvenile greeting
+    On the Eve of St. Valentine's day.
+
+
+
+
+  A CURATE'S COMPLAINT.
+
+  Where are they all departed,
+    The loved ones of my youth,
+  Those emblems white of purity,
+    Sweet innocence and truth?
+  When day-light drives the darkness,
+    When evening melts to night,
+  When noon-day suns burn brightest,
+    They come not to my sight.
+
+  I miss their pure embraces
+    Around my neck and throat,
+  The thousand winning graces
+    Whereon I used to dote.
+  I know I may find markets
+    Where love is bought and sold,
+  But no such love can equal
+    The tender ties of old.
+
+  My gentle washer-woman,
+    I know that you are true;
+  The least shade of suspicion
+    Can never fall on you.
+  Then fear me not, as fiercely
+    I fix on thee stern eyes,
+  And ask in terms emphatic,
+    "Where are my lost white ties?"
+
+  Each year I buy a dozen,
+    Yet scarce a year is gone,
+  Ere, looking in my ward-robe,
+    I find that I have none.
+  I don't believe in magic,
+    I know that you are true,
+  Yet say, my washer-woman,
+    What can those white ties do?
+
+  Does each with her own collar
+    To regions far elope,
+  Regions by starch untainted,
+    And innocent of soap?
+  I know not; but in future
+    I'll buy no more white ties,
+  But wear the stiff 'all-rounder'
+    Of Ritualistic guise.
+
+
+
+
+
+  TEMPORA MUTANTUR.
+
+  There once was a time when I revelled in
+      rhyme, with Valentines deluged my cousins,
+
+  Translated Tibullus and half of Catullus, and
+      poems produced by the dozens.
+
+  Now my tale is nigh told, for my blood's running
+      cold, all my laurels lie yellow and faded.
+
+  "We have come to the boss;" [1] like a weary old
+      hoss, poor Pegasus limps, and is jaded.
+
+  And yet Mr. Editor, like a stern creditor, duns
+      me for this or that article,
+
+  Though he very well knows that of Verse and of
+      prose I am stripped to the very last particle.
+
+  What shall I write of?  What subject indite of?
+      All my _vis viva_ is failing;
+
+  _Emeritus sum_; Mons Parnassus is dumb, and my
+      prayers to the Nine unavailing.--
+
+  Thus in vain have I often attempted to soften
+      the hard heart of Mr. Arenae;
+
+  Like a sop, I must throw him some sort of a
+      poem, in spite of unwilling Camenae.
+
+        *      *      *      *      *      *
+
+  No longer I roam in my Johnian home, no more
+      in the "wilderness" wander;
+
+  And absence we know, for the Poet says so,
+      makes the heart of the lover grow fonder.
+
+  I pine for the Cam, like a runaway lamb that
+      misses his woolly-backed mother;
+
+  I can find no relief for my passionate grief, nor
+      my groanings disconsolate smother.
+
+  Say, how are you all in our old College Hall?
+      Are the dinners more costly, or plainer?
+
+  How are Lecturers, Tutors, Tobacco and Pewters,
+      and how is my friend, the Complainer?
+
+  Are the pupils of Merton, and students of Girton,
+      increasing in numbers, or fewer?
+
+  Are they pretty, or plain?   Humble-minded or
+      vain?  Are they paler, or pinker, or bluer?
+
+  How's the party of stormers, our so-called
+      Reformers?  Are Moral and Natural Sciences
+
+  Improving men's Minds?  Who the money now
+      finds, for Museums, and all their appliances?
+
+  Is Philosophy thriving, or sound sense reviving?
+      Is high-table talk metaphysic?
+
+  Will dark blue or light have the best of the
+      fight, at Putney and Mortlake and Chiswick?
+
+  I often importune the favour of Fortune, that no
+      misadventure may cross us,
+
+  And Rhodes once again on the watery plain,
+      may prove an aquatic Colossus.
+
+  [N.B. since I wrote I must add a short note,
+      by means of new fangled devices,
+
+  Our "Three" was unseated, and we were
+      defeated, and robbed of our laurels by Isis.]--
+
+  O oft do I dream of the muddy old stream, the
+      Father of wisdom and knowledge,
+
+  Where ages ago I delighted to row for the honour
+      and praise of my College.
+
+  I feel every muscle engaged in the tussle, I hear
+      the wild shouting and screaming;
+
+  And as we return I can see from the stern Lady
+      Margaret's red banner streaming;
+
+  Till I wake with a start, such as nightmares impart,
+      and find myself rapidly gliding,
+
+  And striving in vain at my ease to remain on a
+      seat that is constantly sliding.
+
+  Institutions are changed, men and manners
+      deranged, new systems of rowing and reading,
+
+  And writing and thinking, and eating and drinking,
+      each other are quickly succeeding.
+
+  Who knows to what end these new notions will
+      tend?  No doubt all the world is progressing,
+
+  For Kenealy and Odgers, those wide-awake dodgers,
+      the wrongs of mankind are redressing.
+
+  No doubt we shall soon take a trip to the moon,
+      if we need recreation or frolic;
+
+  Or fly to the stars in the New Pullman Cars,
+      when we find the dull earth melancholic.
+
+  We shall know the delights of enjoying our
+      _rights_ without any _duties_ to vex us;
+
+  We shall know the unknown; the Philosopher's
+      stone shall be ours, and no problems perplex us;
+
+  For all shall be patent, no mysteries latent;
+      man's mind by intuitive notion,
+
+  The circle shall square, _x_ and _y_ shall declare,
+      and discover perpetual motion.
+
+  Meanwhile till the Earth has accomplished its
+      birth, mid visions of imminent glory,
+
+  I prefer to remain, as aforetime, a plain and
+      bloated and bigoted Tory.
+
+        *      *      *      *      *      *
+  Dear Mr. Editor, lately my creditor, now fully
+      paid and my debtor,
+
+  I wonder what you will be minded to do, when
+      you get this rhapsodical letter.
+
+  If you listen to me (I shall charge you no fee
+      for advice) do not keep or return it;
+
+  To its merits be kind, to its faults rather blind;
+      in a word, Mr. Editor, burn it!
+
+  (1875).
+
+
+[1] '_iam fervenimus usque ad umbilicos_.'  Martial iv. 91.
+
+
+
+
+  SIMPLEX MUNDITIIS
+
+  (OR, WHAT SHOULD A MAIDEN BE?)
+
+
+  [NOTE.--The following lines were written by request,
+  to be read at a Meeting of the "Girls' Friendly Society."]
+
+
+  What should a maiden be?  Pure as the rill,
+  Ere it has left its first home in the hill;
+  Thinking no evil, suspecting no guile,
+  Cherishing nought that can harm or defile.
+
+  What should a maiden be?  Honest and true,
+  Giving to God and to neighbour their due;
+  Modest and merciful, simple and neat,
+  Clad in the white robe of innocence sweet.
+
+  What should a maiden be?  She should be loath
+  Lightly to give or receive loving troth;
+  But when her faith is once plighted, till breath
+  Leave her, her love should be stronger than death.
+
+  What should a maiden be?  Merry, whene'er
+  Merriment comes with a natural air;
+  But let not mirth be an every-day guest,
+  Quietness sits on a maiden the best.
+
+  Like a fair lily, sequestered and meek,
+  She should be sought for, not others should seek;
+  But, when the wild winds of trouble arise,
+  She should be calm and courageous and wise,
+
+  What should her words be?  Her words should be few,
+  Honest and genuine, tender and true;
+  Words that overflow from a pure heart within,
+  Guiltless of folly, untainted by sin.
+
+  What should her dress be?  Not gaudy and vain,
+  But unaffectedly pretty and plain;
+  She should remember these few simple words--
+  "Fine feathers flourish on foolish young birds."
+
+  Where should a maiden be?  Home is the place
+  Which a fair maid is most fitted to grace;
+  There should she turn, like a bird to the nest,
+  There should a maiden be, blessing and blest.
+
+  There should she dwell as the handmaid of God,
+  And if He bid her 'pass under the rod,'
+  Let her each murmur repining suppress,
+  Knowing He chasteneth that He may bless.
+
+  But if earth's blessings each day He renew,
+  Let her give glory where glory is due;
+  Deem every blessing a gift from above,
+  Given, and designed for a purpose of love,
+
+  What will her future be?  If she become
+  Matron and mother, may God bless her home!
+  God to the matron all blessings will give,
+  If as God's maiden the young maiden live.
+
+  What will her future be?  If she should die,
+  Lightly the earth on her ashes will lie;
+  Softly her body will sleep 'neath the sod,
+  While her pure spirit is safe with her God.
+
+
+
+
+  TURGIDUS ALPINUS.
+
+  My miserable countrymen, whose wont is once a-year
+  To lounge in watering-places, disagreeable and dear;
+  Who on pigmy Cambrian mountains, and in Scotch or Irish bogs
+  Imbibe incessant whisky, and inhale incessant fogs:
+  Ye know not with what transports the mad Alpine Clubman gushes,
+  When with rope and axe and knapsack to the realms of snow he rushes.
+  O can I e'er the hour forget--a voice within cries "Never!"--
+  From British beef and sherry _dear_ which my young heart did sever?
+  My limbs were cased in flannel light, my frame in Norfolk jacket,
+  As jauntily I stepped upon the impatient Calais packet.
+  "Dark lowered the tempest overhead," the waters wildly rolled,
+  Wildly the moon sailed thro' the clouds, "and it grew wondrous cold;"
+  The good ship cleft the darkness, like an iron wedge, I trow,
+  As the steward whispered kindly, "you had better go below"--
+  Enough!  I've viewed with dauntless eye the cattle's bloody tide;
+  Thy horse, proud Duke of Manchester, I've seen straight at me ride;
+  I've braved chance ram-rods from my friends, blank cartridges from foes;
+  The jeers of fair spectators, when I fell upon my nose;
+  I've laughed at toils and troubles, as a British Volunteer;
+  But the thought of that nigh's misery still makes me pale with fear.
+  Sweet the repose which cometh as the due reward of toil;
+  Sweet to the sea-worn traveller the French or British soil;
+  But a railway-carriage full of men, who smoke and drink and spit,
+  Who disgust you by their manners, and oppress you with their wit;
+  A carriage garlic-scented, full of uproar and of heat,
+  To a sleepy, jaded Briton is decidedly not sweet.
+  Then welcome, welcome Paris, peerless city of delights!
+  Welcome, Boulevards, fields Elysian, brilliant days and magic nights!
+  "Vive la gloire, et vive Napoleon! vive l'Empire (c'est la paix);
+  "Vive la France, the land of beauty! vive la Rue St. Honore!"
+  Wildly shouting thus in triumph, I arrived at my Hotel--
+  The exterior was palatial, and the dinner pretty well:
+  O'er the rest, ye muses draw a veil!  'Twas the Exhibition year--
+  And everything was nasty, and proportionately dear,
+  Why should ye sing how much I paid for one poor pint of claret--
+  The horrors of my bedroom in a flea-frequented garret--
+  Its non-Sabaean odours--Liliputian devices
+  For washing in a tea-cup--all at "Exhibition prices?"
+  To the mountains, to the mountains, to their snowy peaks I fly!
+  For their pure, primeval freshness, for their solitude I sigh!
+  Past old Dijon and its Buffet, past fair Macon and its wine,
+  Thro' the lime-stone cliffs, of Jura, past Mont Cenis' wondrous line;
+  Till at 10 A.M., "Lake Leman woos me with its crystal face,"
+  And I take outside the diligence for Chamonix my place.
+  Still my fond imagination views, in memory's mirror clear,
+  Purple rock, and snowy mountain, pine-wood black, and glassy mere;
+  Foaming torrents hoarsely raving; tinkling cowbells in the glade;
+  Meadows green, and maidens mowing in the pleasant twilight shade:
+  The crimson crown of sun-set on Mont Blanc's majestic head,
+  And each lesser peak beneath him pale and ghastly as the dead:
+  Eagle-nest-like mountain chalets, where the tourist for some sous
+  Can imbibe milk by the bucket, and on Nature's grandeur muse:
+  Mont Anvert, the "Pas" called "mauvais," which I thought
+      was "pas mauvais,"
+  Where, in spite of all my boasting, I encountered some delay;
+  For, much to my amazement, at the steepest part I met
+  A matron who weighed twenty stones, and I think must be there yet:
+  The stupendous Col du Geant, with its chaos of seracs;
+  The procession into Cormayeur, with lantern, rope, and axe:
+  The sweet girl with golden ringlets--her dear name was Mary Ann--
+  Whom I helped to climb the Jardin, and who cut me at Lausanne:
+  On these, the charms of Chamonix, sweeter far than words can tell,
+  At the witching hour of twilight doth my memory love to dwell.
+  Ye, who ne'er have known the rapture, the unutterable bliss
+  Of Savoy's sequestered valleys, and the mountains of La Suisse;
+  The mosquitos of Martigny; the confusion of Sierre;
+  The dirt of Visp or Minister, and the odours everywhere:
+  Ye, who ne'er from Monte Rosa have surveyed Italia's plain,
+  Till you wonder if you ever will get safely down again;
+  Ye, who ne'er have stood on tip-toe on a 'knife-like snow-arete,'
+  Nor have started avalanches by the pressure of your weight;
+  Ye, who ne'er have _packed_ your weary limbs in sleeping bags at night,
+  Some few inches from a berg-schrund, 'neath
+      the pale moon's freezing light:
+  Who have ne'er stood on the snow-fields, when the sun in glory rose,
+  Nor returned again at sun-set with parched lips and skinless nose;
+  Ye, who love not masked crevasses, falling stones, and blistered feet,
+  Sudden changes from Siberia's cold to equatorial heat;
+  Ye, who love not the extortions of Padrone, Driver, Guide;
+  Ye, who love not o'er the Gemmi on a kicking mule to ride;
+  You miserable creatures, who will never know true bliss,
+  You're not the men for Chamonix; avoid, avoid La Suisse!
+
+
+
+
+  THE ALPINE CLUB MAN.
+
+  "Up the high Alps, perspiring madman, steam,
+  To please the school-boys, and become a theme."
+      _Cf. Juv. Sat. x, v. 106._
+
+
+  We who know not the charms of a glass below Zero,
+  Come list to the lay of an Alpine Club hero;
+  For no mortal below, contradict it who can,
+  Lives a life half so blest as the Alpine Club man.
+
+  When men of low tastes snore serenely in bed,
+  He is up and abroad with a nose blue and red;
+  While the lark, who would peacefully sleep in her nest,
+  Wakes and blesses the stranger who murders her rest.
+
+  Now blowing their fingers, with frost-bitten toes,
+  The joyous procession exultingly goes;
+  Above them the glaciers spectral are shining,
+  But onward they march undismay'd, unrepining.
+
+  Now the glacier blue they approach with blue noses,
+  When a yawning crevasse further progress opposes;
+  Already their troubles begin--here's the rub!
+  So they halt, and _nem. con._ call aloud for their grub.
+
+  From the fountain of pleasure will bitterness spring,
+  Yet why should the Muse aught but happiness sing?
+  No! let me the terrible anguish conceal
+  Of the hero whose guide had forgotten the veal! [1]
+
+  Now "all full inside" on the ice they embark:
+  The moon has gone down, and the morning is dark,
+  Dreary drizzles the rain, O, deny it who can,
+  There's no one so blest as the Alpine Club man!
+
+  But why should I dwell on their labours at length?
+  Why sing of their eyelids' astonishing strength?
+  How they ride up "aretes" with slow, steady advance,
+  One leg over Italy, one over France.
+
+  Now the summit is gained, the reward of their toil:
+  So they sit down contentedly water to boil:
+  Eat and drink, stamp their feet, and keep warm if they can--
+  O who is so blest as the Alpine Club man?
+
+  Now their lips and their hands are of wonderful hue,
+  And skinless their noses, that 'erst were so blue:
+  And they find to their cost that high regions agree
+  With that patient explorer and climber--the flea.
+
+  Then they slide down again in a manner not cozy,
+  (Descensus baud facilis est Montis Rosae)
+  Now spread on all fours, on their backs now descending,
+  Till broad-cloth and bellows call loudly for mending.
+
+  Now harnessed together like so many--horses,
+  By bridges of snow they cross awful crevasses;
+  So frail are these bridges that they who go o'er 'em
+  Indulge in a perilous "Pons Asinorum."
+
+  Lastly weary and Jaded, with hunger opprest,
+  In a hut they chew goat's flesh, and court gentle rest;
+  But entomological hosts have conspired
+  To drive sleep from their eyelids, with clambering tired.
+
+  O thou, who with banner of strangest device
+  Hast never yet stood on a summit of ice,
+  Where "lifeless but beautiful" nature doth show
+  An unvaried expanse of rock, rain, ice, and snow.
+
+  Perchance thou may'st ask what avails all their toil?
+  What avails it on mountain-tops water to boil?
+  What avails it to leave their snug beds in the dark?
+  Do they go for a view? do they go for a lark?
+
+  Know, presumptuous wretch, 'tis not science they prize,
+  The lark, and the view ('tis all mist) they despise;
+  Like the wise king of France with his ten thousand men,
+  They go up their mountain--to come down again.
+
+
+[1] Cf. Peaks, Passes, and Glaciers, 1st Series, p. 296.
+
+
+
+
+  THE MODERN CLIMBER.
+
+  Year after year, as Summer suns come round,
+  Upon the Calais packet am I found:
+  Thence to Geneva hurried by express,
+  I halt for breakfast, bathe, and change my dress.
+  My well-worn knapsack to my back I strap;
+  My Alpine rope I neatly round me wrap;
+  Then, axe in hand, the diligence disdaining,
+  I walk to Chamonix, by way of training.
+  Arrived at Coutlet's Inn by eventide,
+  I interview my porter and my guide:
+  My guide, that Mentor who has dragg'd full oft
+  These aching, shaking, quaking limbs aloft;
+  Braved falling stones, cut steps on ice-slopes steep,
+  That _I_ the glory of _his_ deeds might reap.
+  My porter, who with uncomplaining back
+  O'er passes, peaks, and glaciers bears my pack:
+  Tho' now the good man looks a trifle sadder,
+  When I suggest the ill-omened name of "ladder."
+  O'er many a pipe our heads we put together;
+  Our first enquiry is of course "the weather."
+  With buoyant hearts the star-lit heaven we view;
+  Then our next point is "What are we to '_do_'?"
+  My pipe I pocket, and with head up-tossed
+  My listening followers I thus accost:--
+  "Mont Blanc, we know, is stupid, stale, and slow,
+  A tiresome tramp o'er lumps of lifeless snow.
+  The Col du Geant is a trifle worse;
+  The Jardin's fit for babies with their nurse:
+  The Aiguille Verte is more the sort of thing,
+  But time has robbed it of its former sting;
+  Alone the Dent du Geant and the Dru [1]
+  Remain 'undone,' and therefore fit to '_do_.'
+  Remember how I love, my comrades tried,
+  To linger on some rocky mountain's side,
+  "Where I can hear the crash of falling stones,
+  Threatening destruction to the tourist's bones!
+  No cadence falls so sweetly on my ear
+  As stones discharged from precipices sheer:
+  No sight is half so soothing to my nerves
+  As boulders bounding in eccentric curves.
+  If falling stones sufficient be not found,
+  Lead me where avalanches most abound.
+  Ye shake your heads; ye talk of home and wife,
+  Of babes dependent on the Father's life.
+  What! still reluctant? let me then make clear
+  The duties of the guide and mountaineer;
+  Mine is to order, yours is to obey--
+  For you are hirelings, and 'tis I who pay.
+  I've heard, indeed, that some old-fashioned Herren,
+  Who've walked with Almer, Melchior, and Perren,
+  Maintain that mountaineering is a pleasure,
+  A recreation for our hours of leisure:
+  'To be or not to be' perhaps may matter
+  To _them_, for they may have some brains to scatter;
+  But _we_, I trust, shall take a higher view,
+  And make our mountain motto 'die or do.'
+  "Nay, hear me out! your scruples well I know:
+  Trust me, not unrewarded shall ye go.
+  If ye succeed, much money will I give,
+  And mine unfaltering friendship, while ye live.
+  Nor only thus will I your deeds requite;
+  High testimonials in your books I'll write.
+  Thee, trusty guide, will I much eulogize
+  As strong and cautious, diligent and wise,
+  Active, unhesitating, cheerful, sure--
+  Nay, _almost_ equal to an Amateur!
+  And thou, my meekest of meek beasts of burden,
+  Thou too shalt have thine undisputed guerdon:
+  I'll do for thee the very best I can,
+  And sound thy praise as 'a good third-rate man.'
+  But if ye fail, if cannonading stones,
+  Or toppling ice-crag, pulverize your bones;
+  O happy stroke, that makes immortal heroes
+  Of men who, otherwise, would be but zeroes!
+  What tho' no Alpine horn make music drear
+  O'er the lone snow which furnishes your bier;
+  Nor Alpine maiden strew your grave with posies
+  Of gentian, edelweiss, and Alpine roses?
+  "The Alpine Muse her iciest tears shall shed,
+  And 'build a stone-man' o'er your honour'd head,
+  Chamois and bouquetins the spot shall haunt,
+  With eagles, choughs, and lammergeyers gaunt;
+  The mountain marmots, marching o'er the snow,
+  Their yearly pilgrimage shall ne'er forego;
+  Tyndall himself, in grand, prophetic tones,
+  Shall calculate the movement of your bones;
+  And your renown shall live serene, eternal,
+  Embalmed in pages of the Alpine Journal!"
+
+        *      *      *      *      *
+
+  By reasoning such as this, year after year,
+  I overcome my men's unreasoning fear:
+  Twice has my guide by falling stones been struck,
+  Yet still I trust his science and my luck.
+  A falling stone once cut my rope in twain;
+  We stopped to mend it, and marched on again.
+  Once a big boulder, with a sudden whack,
+  Severed my knapsack from my porter's back.
+  Twice on a sliding avalanche I've slid,
+  While my companions in its depths were hid.
+  Daring all dangers, no disaster fearing,
+  I carry out my plan of mountaineering.
+  Thus have I conquered glacier, peak, and pass,
+  Aiguilles du Midi, Cols des Grandes Jorasses.
+  Thus shall I onward march from peak to peak,
+  Till there are no new conquests left to seek.
+  O the wild joy, the unutterable bliss
+  To hear the coming avalanche's hiss!
+  Or place oneself in acrobatic pose,
+  While mountain missiles graze one's sun-burnt nose!
+  And if some future season I be doom'd
+  To be by boulders crushed, or snow entombed,
+  Still let me upward urge my mad career,
+  And risk my limbs and life for honour dear!
+  Sublimely acquiescent in my lot,
+  I'll die a martyr for--I know not what!
+
+  (1876)
+
+
+[1] Written in 1876.
+
+
+
+
+  THE CLIMBER'S DREAM.
+
+  I made an ascent of the Eiger
+    Last year, which has ne'er been surpassed;
+  'Twas dangerous, long, and laborious,
+    But almost incredibly fast.
+  We started at twelve from the Faulberg;
+    Ascended the Monch by the way;
+  And were well at the base of our mountain,
+    As the peak caught the dawn of the day.
+
+  In front of me Almer and Perren
+    Cut steps, each as big as a bucket;
+  While behind me there followed, as Herren,
+    George, Stephen, and Freshfield, and Tuckett.
+  We got to the top without trouble;
+    There halted, of course, for the view;
+  When clouds, sailing fast from the southward,
+    Veiled over the vault of dark blue.
+
+  The lightning shone playfully round us;
+    The thunder ferociously growled;
+  The hail beat upon us in bullets;
+    And the wind everlastingly howled.
+  We turned to descend to the Scheideck,
+    Eyes blinded, ears deafened, we ran,
+  In our panic and hurry, forgetting
+    To add a new stone to the _man_.
+
+  Palinurus himself--that is Almer--
+    No longer could make out the track;
+  'Twas folly, no doubt, to go onward;
+    'Twas madness, of course, to go back.
+  The snow slope grew steeper and steeper;
+    The lightning more vividly flared;
+  The thunder rolled deeper and deeper;
+    And the wind more offensively blared.
+
+  But at last a strong gust for a moment
+    Dispersed the thick cloud from our sight,
+  And revealed an astonishing prospect,
+    Which filled not our hearts with delight:
+  On our right was a precipice awful;
+    On the left chasms yawning and deep;
+  Glazed rocks and snow-slopes were before us,
+    At an angle alarmingly steep.
+
+  We all turned and looked back at Almer.
+    Who then was the last on the rope;
+  His face for a moment was clouded,
+    Then beamed with the dawn of a hope;
+  He came to the front, and thence forward
+    In wonderful fashion he led,
+  Over rocks, over snow-slopes glissading,
+    While he stood, bolt upright on his head!
+
+  We followed, in similar fashion;
+    Hurrah, what a moment is this!
+  What a moment of exquisite transport!
+    A realization of bliss!
+  To glissade is a pleasant sensation,
+    Of which all have written, or read;
+  But to taste it, _in perfect perfection_,
+    You should learn to glissade _on your head_.
+
+  Hurrah! with a wild scream of triumph,
+    Over snow, over boulders we fly,
+  Our heads firmly pressed to the surface,
+    Our heels pointing up to the sky!
+  We bound o'er the bergschrund uninjured,
+    We shoot o'er a precipice sheer;
+  Hurrah, for the modern glissader!
+    Hurrah, for the wild mountaineer!
+
+        *      *      *      *      *
+
+  But, alas! what is this? what a shaking!
+    What a jar! what a bump! what a thump!
+  Out of bed, in intense consternation,
+    I bound with a hop, skip, and jump.
+  For I hear the sweet voice of a "person"
+    Of whom I with justice am proud,
+  "_My dear, when you dream about mountains,
+    I wish you'd not jodel so loud!_"
+
+
+
+
+  THE BEACONSFIELD ALPHABET.
+
+  A's my new policy called Annexation;
+  B is the Bother it causes the nation.
+  C is Lord Chelmsford, engaged with Zulus;
+  D the Disasters which give me 'the blues.'
+  E is the Effort I make to look merry;
+  F is my Failure--deplorable very!
+  G is Sir Garnett, alas, not ubiquitous!
+  H stands for H----t, an M.P. iniquitous.
+  I stands for India, a source of vexation:
+  J are the Jews, a most excellent nation.
+  K is the Khedive, whose plan is to borrow
+  L _L. s. d._--I'll annex him to-morrow!
+  M's the Majority, which I much prize;
+  N are the Non-contents whom I despise.
+  O's the Opposition, so often defeated;
+  P is P----ll, that Home-ruler conceited.
+  Q are the Questions put by noble Lords;
+  R my Responses, more cutting than swords.
+  S is the Sultan, my friend true and warm;
+  T are the Turks, whom I hope to reform.
+  U's my Utopia--Cyprus, I mean:
+  V is Victoria, my Empress and Queen.
+  W's the World, which ere long I shall own;
+  X is the sign of my power unknown.
+  Y is the Yacht I shall keep in the Red Sea:
+  Z the Zulus, whom I wish in the Dead Sea.
+
+  (1879).
+
+
+
+
+  THE GLADSTONE ALPHABET.
+
+  A's Aristides, or Gladstone the Good;
+  B is Lord B., whom I'd crush if I could.
+  C are Conservatives, full of mad pranks;
+  D are the Dunces who fill up their ranks.
+  E stands for Ewelme, of some notoriety;
+  F for the Fuss made in Oxford society.
+  G stands for Gladstone, a hewer of wood;
+  H is my Hatchet of merciless mood.
+  I is the Irish Church which I cut down:
+  J are the Jobs which I kill with a frown,
+  K are the Knocks which I give and I take:
+  L are the Liberals whom I forsake.
+  M are the Ministry whom I revile;
+  N are the Noodles my speeches beguile.
+  O is the Office I mean to refuse:
+  P is the Premier--I long for his shoes.
+  Q are the Qualms of my conscience refined;
+  R is the Rhetoric nothing can bind,
+  S is Herr Schliemann who loves much to walk about
+  T ancient Troy, which _I_ love much to talk about.
+  U is the Union of Church and State;
+  V are my former Views, now out of date.
+  W is William, the People's 'True Bill,'
+  X is the Exit from power of that 'Will.'
+  Y is Young England, who soon will unite
+  Z in fresh Zeal for the 'People's Delight.'
+
+  (1879)
+
+
+
+
+  SOLITUDE IN SEPTEMBER.
+
+  O BEATA SOLITUDO; O SOLA BEATITUDO.
+
+  (_Inscription in the Grounds of Burg Birseck, near Basel._)
+
+
+  Sweet Solitude where dost thou linger?
+    When and where shall I look in thy face?
+  Feel the soft magic touch of thy finger,
+    The glow of thy silent embrace?
+  Stern Civilization has banished
+    Thy charms to a region unknown;
+  The spell of thy beauty has vanished--
+    Sweet Solitude, where hast thou flown?
+
+  I have sought thee on pampas and prairie,
+    By blue lake and bluer crevasse,
+  On shores that are arid and airy,
+    Lone peak, and precipitous pass.
+  I have sought thee, sweet Solitude, ever
+    Regardless of peril and pain;
+  But in spite of my utmost endeavour
+    I have sought thee, fair charmer, in vain.
+
+  To the Alps, to the Alps in September,
+    Unconducted by Cook, did I rush;
+  Full well even now I remember
+    How my heart with emotion did gush.
+  Here at least in these lonely recesses
+    With thee I shall cast in my lot;
+  Shall feel thy endearing caresses,
+    Forgetting all else and forgot.
+
+  But I met a young couple "proposing"
+   On the top of the sunny Languard;
+  I surprised an old gentleman dozing,
+    "Times" in hand, on the heights of Fort Bard.
+  In the fir woods of sweet Pontresina
+    Picnic papers polluted the walks;
+  On the top of the frosty Bernina
+    I found a young mountain of--corks.
+
+  I trod, by the falls of the Handeck,
+    On the end of a penny cigar;
+  As I roamed in the woods above Landeck
+    A hair-pin my pleasure did mar:
+  To the Riffel in vain I retreated,
+    Mr. Gaze and the Gazers were there;
+  On the top of the Matterhorn seated
+    I picked up a lady's back hair!
+
+  From the Belle Vue in Thun I was hunted
+    By "'Arry" who wished to play pool;
+  On the Col du Bonhomme I confronted
+    The whole of a young ladies' school.
+  At Giacomo's Inn in Chiesa
+    I was asked to take shares in a mine;
+  With an agent for "Mappin's new Razor"
+    I sat down at Baveno to dine.
+
+  On the waves of Lake Leman were floating
+    Old lemons (imagine my feelings!),
+  The fish in Lucerne were all gloating
+    On cast-away salads and peelings;
+  And egg-shells and old bones of chicken
+    On the shore of St. Moritz did lie:
+  My spirit within me did sicken--
+    Sweet Solitude, where shall I fly?
+
+  Disconsolate, gloomy, and undone
+    I take in the "Dilly" my place;
+  By Zurich and Basel to London
+    I rush, as if running a race.
+  My quest and my troubles are over;
+    As I drive through the desolate street
+  To my Club in Pall Mall, I discover
+    Sweet Solitude's summer retreat.
+
+
+
+
+  MEDITATIONS OF A
+
+  CLASSICAL MAN ON A MATHEMATICAL PAPER
+
+  DURING A LATE FELLOWSHIP EXAMINATION.
+
+  Woe, woe is me! for whither can I fly?
+  Where hide me from Mathesis' fearful eye?
+  Where'er I turn the Goddess haunts my path,
+  Like grim Megoera in revengeful wrath:
+  In accents wild, that would awake the dead,
+  Bids me perplexing problems to unthread;
+  Bids me the laws of _x_ and _y_ to unfold,
+  And with "dry eyes" dread mysteries behold.
+  Not thus, when blood maternal he had shed,
+  The Furies' fangs Orestes wildly fled;
+  Not thus Ixion fears the falling stone,
+  Tisiphone's red lash, or dark Cocytus' moan.
+  Spare me, Mathesis, though thy foe I be,
+  Though at thy altar ne'er I bend the knee,
+  Though o'er thy "Asses' Bridge" I never pass,
+  And ne'er in this respect will prove an ass;
+  Still let mild mercy thy fierce anger quell! oh
+  Let, let me live to be a Johnian fellow!
+
+        *      *      *      *      *      *
+
+  She hears me not! with heart as hard as lead,
+  She hurls a Rhombus at my luckless head.
+  Lo, where her myrmidons, a wrangling crew,
+  With howls and yells rise darkling to the view.
+  There Algebra, a maiden old and pale,
+  Drinks "double _x_," enough to drown a whale.
+  There Euclid, 'mid a troop of "Riders" passes,
+  Riding a Rhomboid o'er the Bridge of Asses;
+  And shouts to Newton, who seems rather deaf,
+  I've crossed the Bridge in safety Q.E.F.
+  There black Mechanics, innocent of soap,
+  Lift the long lever, pull the pulley's rope,
+  Coil the coy cylinder, explain the fear
+  Which makes the nurse lean slightly to her rear;
+  Else, equilibrium lost, to earth she'll fall,
+  Down will come child, nurse, crinoline and all!
+  But why describe the rest? a motley crew,
+  Of every figure, magnitude, and hue:
+  Now circles they describe; now form in square;
+  Now cut ellipses in the ambient air:
+  Then in my ear with one accord they bellow,
+  "Fly wretch! thou ne'er shalt be a Johnian Fellow!"
+
+  Must I then bid a long farewell to "John's,"
+  Its stately courts, its wisdom-wooing Dons,
+  Its antique towers, its labyrinthine maze,
+  Its nights of study, and its pleasant days?
+  O learned Synod, whose decree I wait,
+  Whose just decision makes, or mars my fate;
+  If in your gardens I have loved to roam,
+  And found within your courts a second home;
+  If I have loved the elm trees' quivering shade,
+  Since on your banks my freshman limbs I laid;
+  If rustling reeds make music unto me
+  More soft, more sweet than mortal melody;
+  If I have loved to "urge the flying ball"
+  Against your Racquet Court's re-echoing wall;
+  If, for the honour of the Johnian red,
+  I've gladly spurned the matutinal bed,
+  And though at rowing, woe is me! no dab,
+  I've rowed my best, and seldom caught a crab;
+  If classic Camus flow to me more dear
+  Than yellow Tiber, or Ilissus clear;
+  If fairer seem to me that fragrant stream
+  Than Cupid's kiss, or Poet's pictured dream;
+  If I have loved to linger o'er the page
+  Of Roman Bard, and Academian sage;
+  If all your grave pursuits, your pastimes gay,
+  Have been my care by night, my joy by day;
+  Still let me roam, unworthy tho' I be,
+  By Cam's slow stream, beneath the old elm tree;
+  Still let me lie in Alma Mater's arms,
+  Far from the wild world's troubles and alarms:
+  Hear me, nor in stern wrath my prayer repel! oh
+  Let, let me live to be a Johnian Fellow!
+
+  (1865).
+
+
+
+
+  THE LADY MARGARET 5TH BOAT,
+
+  _May_, 1863.
+
+  1. BOYCOTT, W.            5. PALEY, G. A.
+  2. FERGUSON, R. S.        6. GORST, P. F.
+  3. BOWLING, E. W.         7. SECKER, J. H.
+  4. SMITH, JASON.          8. FISHER, J.
+            Steerer--BUSHELL, W. D.
+
+  Eight B.A.'s stout from town came out M.A. degrees to take,
+  And made a vow from stroke to bow a bump or two to make.
+  Weary were they and jaded with the din of London town,
+  And they felt a tender longing for their long-lost cap
+      and gown.
+  So they sought the old Loganus: well pleased, I trow, was he,
+  The manly forms he knew so well once more again to see:
+  And they cried--"O old Loganus, can'st thou
+      find us e'er a boat,
+  In which our heavy carcases may o'er the waters float?"
+  Then laughed aloud Loganus--a bitter jest lov'd he--
+  And he cried "Such heavy mariners I ne'er before did see;
+  I have a fast commodious barge, drawn by a wellfed steed,
+  'Twill scarcely bear your weight, I fear: for never
+      have I see'd
+  Eight men so stout wish to go out a rowing in a 'height;'
+  Why, gentlemen, a man of war would sink beneath your weight."
+  Thus spake the old Loganus, and he laughed both
+      long and loud,
+  And when the eight men heard his words, they
+      stood abashed and cowed;
+  For they knew not that he loved them, and that,
+      sharply tho' he spoke,
+  The old man loved them kindly, tho' he also loved his joke:
+  For Loganus is a Trojan, and tho' hoary be his head,
+  He loveth Margareta, and the ancient Johnian red.
+  So he brought them out an eight-oar'd tub, and
+      oars both light and strong,
+  And bade them be courageous, and row their ship along.
+  Then in jumped Casa Minor, the Captain of our crew,
+  And the gallant son-of Fergus in a "blazer" bright and new;
+  And _Thomas o Kulindon_ [*] full proudly grasped his oar,
+  And _Iason o Chalkourgos_ [*], who weighs enough for "four;"
+  For if Jason and Medea had sailed with him for cargo,
+  To the bottom of the Euxine would have sunk the
+      good ship Argo.
+  Then Pallidulus Bargaeus, the mightiest of our crew,
+  Than whom no better oarsman ever wore the Cambridge blue.
+  And at number six sat Peter, whom Putney's waters know;
+  Number seven was young Josephus, the ever-sleepless Joe;
+  Number eight was John Piscator, at his oar a wondrous dab,
+  Who, tho' all his life a fisher, yet has never caught a crab;
+  Last of all the martial Modius, having laid his good sword by,
+  Seized the rudder-strings, and uttered an invigorating cry:
+  "Are you ready all?  Row, Two, a stroke!  Eyes
+      front, and sit at ease!
+  Quick March!  I meant to say, Row on! and
+      mind the time all, please."
+  Then sped the gallant vessel, like an arrow from a bow,
+  And the men stood wondering on the banks to
+      see the "Old'uns" row;
+  And Father Camus raised his head, and smiled upon the crew,
+  For their swing, and time, and feather, and their
+      forms, full well he knew.
+  They rowed past Barnwell's silvery pool, past
+      Charon's gloomy bark,
+  And nearly came to grief beneath the railway rafters dark:
+  But down the willow-fringed Long Reach so fearful
+      was their pace,
+  That joyous was each Johnian, and pale each foeman's face.
+  They rowed round Ditton corner, and past the pleasant Plough,
+  Nor listened to the wild appeal for beer that came from bow;
+  They rowed round Grassy Corner, and its fairy forms divine,
+  But from the boat there wandered not an eye
+      of all the nine;
+  They rowed round First-Post Corner, the Little
+      Bridge they passed,
+  And calmly took their station two places from the last.
+  Off went the gun! with one accord the sluggish Cam they smote,
+  And were bumped in fifty seconds by the Second Jesus Boat.
+
+  (1863).
+
+[* Transcriber's note: The names "Thomas o Kulindon" and "Iason o
+Chalkourgos" were transliterated from the Greek as follows:
+
+  Thomas: Theta, omega, mu, alpha, sigma.
+  o: omicron.
+  Kulindon: Kappa, upsilon, lambda, iota, nu, delta, omega, nu.
+
+  Iason (Jason?): Iota, alpha, sigma, omega, nu.
+  o: omicron.
+  Chalkourgos: Chi, alpha, lambda, kappa, omicron, upsilon,
+               rho, gamma, omicron, sigma.]
+
+
+
+
+  IN CAMUM.
+
+  Ridicula nuper cymba, sicut meus est mos,
+  Flumineas propter salices et murmura Cami,
+  Multa movens mecum, fumo inspirante, iacebam.
+  Illic forte mihi senis occurrebat imago
+  Squalida, torva tuens, longos incompta capillos;
+  Ipse manu cymbam prensans se littore in udo
+  Deposuit; Camique humeros agnoscere latos
+  Immanesque artus atque ora hirsuta videbar:
+  Mox lacrymas inter tales dedit ore querelas--
+  "Nate," inquit, "tu semper enim pius accola Cami,
+  Nate, patris miserere tui, miserere tuorum!
+  Quinque reportatis tumet Isidis unda triumphis:
+  Quinque anni videre meos sine laude secundo
+  Cymbam urgere loco cunctantem, et cedere victos.
+  Heu! quis erit finis?  Quis me manet exitus olim?
+  Terga boum tergis vi non cedentia nostri
+  Exercent iuvenes; nuda atque immania crura,
+  Digna giganteas inter certare palaestras,
+  Quisque ferunt, latosque humeros et brachia longa,
+  Collaque Atlanteo non inferiora labore:
+  "Sed vis arte carens frustra per stagna laborat:
+  Fit brevis inque dies brevior (proh dedecus ingens!)
+  Ictus, et incerto tremulam movet impete cymbam,
+  Usque volaturae similem, tamen usque morantem.
+  Ah!  Stanleius ubi est? ubi fortis et acer Ioenas
+  Et Virtus ingens, maiorque vel Hercule Iudas?
+  Ah! ubi, laeva mei novit quem fluminis ora,
+  Ile 'Ictus,' vitreis longe spectandus ocellis,
+  Dulce decus Cami, quem plebs ignoblis 'Aulam,'
+  Vulpicanem Superi grato cognomine dicunt?
+  Te quoque, magne Pales, et te mea flumina deflent
+  O formose puer, quibus alto in gurgite mersis
+  Mille dedit, rapuit mille oscula candida Naias?
+  Quid decus amissum repeto, aut iam laude perempta
+  Nomina Putnaeis annalibus eruta testor?
+  "Granta ruit, periitque decus, periitque vetusta
+  Gloria remorum primaeque per aequora navis.
+  Sed vos, O juvenes, sanguis quibus integer aevi,
+  Spes ventura domus, Grantaeque novissima proles,
+  Antiquum revocate decus, revocate triumphos!
+  Continuo Palinurus ubi 'iam pergite' dixit
+  Erectum librate caput; nec pandere crura
+  Parcite, nec solidis firmi considere transtris!
+  Ast ubi contactas iam palmula senserit undas,
+  Compressa incipiat iam tum mihi crura phaselus
+  Accipere, et faciles iter accelerare per undas.
+  "Incipiente ictu qui vim non prompserit omnem
+  Dique hominesque odere; hic, pondus inutile cymbae,
+  Tardat iter; comites necat; hunc tu, nauta, caveto!
+  Nec minus, incepto quoties ratis emicat ictu,
+  Cura sit ad finem justos perferre labores.
+  Vidi equidem multos--sileantur nomina--fluctus
+  Praecipites penetrasse, sed heu! brevis effluit ictus,
+  Immemor etremi mediique laboris in unda;
+  Nam tales nisus tolerare humana nequit vis;
+  Et quamvis primos jam jam victura carina
+  Evolet in cursus, primisque triumphet in undis,
+  Mox ubi finis adest atque ultima meta laborum,
+  Labitur exanimis, vi non virtute subacta.
+
+  "Tu quoque qui cymbae tendis Palinurus habenas
+  Ultro hortare viros; fortes solare benignis
+  Vocibus; ignavos accende, suosque labores
+  Fac peragant, segnique veta torpere veterno.
+  Sed quid ego haec? priscae si iam pietatis imago
+  Ulla manet, si quid vobis mea gloria curae est,
+  Camigenae, misero tandem succurrite patri,
+  Ereptosque diu vincendo reddite honores!
+  Tunc ego arundinea redimitus tempora vitta
+  Antiquo fruar imperior iustisque triumphis:
+  Tum demum Cloacina meos foedissima fluctus
+  Desierit temerare, et puro flumine labens
+  Camus ad Oceanum volvetur amabilis amnis."
+
+  Dixit, et in piceas Fluvius sese abdidit undas;
+  Sed me ridiculam solventem a littore cymbam
+  Nectaris ambrosii circumvolvuntur odores,
+  Decedente Deo; naresque impellit acutas
+  Confusi canis amnis et illaetabilis aura.
+
+
+
+
+  FATHER CAMUS.
+
+  Smoking lately in my "Funny," as I'm wont, beneath the bank,
+  Listening to Cam's rippling murmurs thro' the
+      weeds and willows dank,
+  As I chewed the Cud of fancy, from the water there appeared
+  An old man, fierce-eyed, and filthy, with a long
+      and tangled beard;
+  To the oozy shore he paddled, clinging to my Funny's nose,
+  Till, in all his mud majestic, Cam's gigantic form arose.
+  Brawny, broad of shoulders was he, hairy were
+      his face and head,
+  And amid loud lamentations tears incessantly he shed.
+  "Son," he cried, "the sorrows pity of thy melancholy sire!
+  Pity Camus! pity Cambridge! pity our disasters dire!
+  Five long years hath Isis triumphed, five long
+      years have seen my Eight
+  Rowing second, vainly struggling 'gainst an unrelenting fate.
+  What will be the end, I know not! what will
+      be the doom of Camus?
+  Shall I die disowned, dishonoured?  Shall I live,
+      and yet be famous?
+  Backs as strong as oxen have we, legs Herculean and bare,
+  Legs that in the ring with Titan wrestler might
+      to wrestle dare.
+  Arms we have long, straight, and sinewy,
+  Shoulders broad, necks thick and strong,
+  Necks that to the earth-supporting Atlas might
+      full well belong.
+  "But our strength un-scientific strives in vain
+      thro' stagnant water,
+  Every day, I blush to own it, Cambridge strokes
+      are rowing shorter.
+  With a short spasmodic impulse see the boats a moment leap,
+  Starting with a flying motion, soon they stop
+      and sink to sleep.
+  Where are Stanley, Jones, and Courage? where
+      is 'Judas' stout and tall,
+  Where the Stroke named ''all' by Bargemen,
+      known to Cambridge as 'Jack Hall'?
+  'Twas a spectacle to see him in his gig-lamps row along,
+  And the good ship speeding onward swift as
+      Poet's gushing song.
+  Where is Paley?  Where is Fairbairn, from
+      whose lips the Naiads dank
+  Snatched and gave their sweetest kisses when
+      our Eight at Chiswick sank?
+  What avails it to remember brilliant days now lost in night?
+  What avails it Putney's annals, and past glories to recite?
+  "Lost is Granta, lost our glory, lost our former pride of place,
+  Gone are all my blushing honours, nought is
+      left me but disgrace.
+  For regardless of all science, every oarsman now obeys
+  Wild, new fangled laws and notions, never
+      dream'd of in old days.
+  But do you, my gentle Freshmen, who have youth in every vein,
+  Labour by your manly valour our lost laurels to regain!
+  When you hear the Cox'n's 'row on all,' then
+      keep erect your head;
+  Then be your arms and bodies with one motion for'ard sped:
+  Sit firm upon your cushions all; and, when the oar is in,
+  With one harmonious action let your work at once begin:
+  Press your feet against the stretcher, and your
+      legs with vigour ply,
+  Till the ship, as swift as lightning, thro' the
+      yielding water fly.
+  "He who 'misses the beginning' makes his comrades
+      all to suffer,
+  Spoils the swing, and is a nuisance; turn him
+      out, for he's a duffer!
+  Having made a good beginning you must carry on the work,
+  And until the stroke is finished not an atom must you shirk.
+  I have seen--no names I mention--certain oarsmen with a dash
+  Plunge their oars into the water, and produce
+      a sudden splash!
+  But the middle and the finish are all wasted in the air,
+  And no human constitution can such toil incessant bear;
+  For although the ship at starting may at once
+      its distance clear,
+  And victory seem certain, when the winning post is near,
+  The crew worn out and breathless have nothing in them left,
+  And though pluck may ne'er desert them, of
+      their vigour are bereft.
+
+  "And do you, my Palinuris, steering straight the gallant bark,
+  By voice and exhortation keep your heroes to the mark.
+  Cheer the plucky, chide the cowards who to do
+      their work are loth,
+  And forbid them to grow torpid by indulging selfish sloth.
+  Fool!  I know my words are idle! yet if any love remain;
+  If my honour be your glory, my discredit be your pain;
+  If a spark of old affection in your hearts be still alive!
+  Rally round old Father Camus, and his glories past revive!
+  Then adorned with reedy garland shall I take my former throne,
+  And, victor of proud Isis, reign triumphant and alone.
+  Then no more shall Cloacina with my streams
+      her offerings blend,
+  And old Camus clear as crystal to the ocean shall descend!"
+
+  He spoke, and 'neath the surface, black as pitch,
+      he hid his head,
+  And, punting out my Funny, I my homeward journey sped.
+  But a strange ambrosial odour, as the God sank
+      'neath the flood,
+  Seem'd to float and hover round me, creeping
+      upward from the mud:
+  And for ever from the water's troubled face there
+      seem'd to rise
+  A melancholy fragrance of dead dogs unto the skies.
+
+
+
+
+  IN MEMORIAM G. A. P.
+
+  He has gone to his grave in the strength of youth,
+    While life shone bright before him;
+  And we, who remember his worth and truth,
+    Stand vainly grieving o'er him.
+
+  He has gone to his grave; that manly heart
+    No more with life is glowing;
+  And the tears to our eyes unbidden start,
+    Our sad hearts' overflowing.
+
+  I gaze on his rooms as beneath I pace,
+    And the past again comes o'er me,
+  For I feel his grasp, and I see his face,
+    And his voice has a welcome for me.
+
+  I gaze on the river, and see once more
+    His form in the race competing;
+  And I hear the time of his well-known oar,
+    And the shouts his triumph greeting.
+
+  Flow on, cold river!  Our bitter grief
+    No tears from thy waves can waken:
+  Thy whisp'ring reed, and thy willow leaf
+    By no sad sighs are shaken.
+
+  Thy banks are thronged by the young and gay,
+    Who dream not of the morrow;
+  No ear hast thou for a mournful lay,
+    No sympathy with sorrow.
+
+  Flow on, dull river!  Thy heedless wave,
+    As it echoes shouts of gladness,
+  Bears forms as stalwart, and hearts as brave,
+    As his whom we mourn in sadness.
+
+  But an arm more strong, and a heart more bold,
+    And with purer feelings glowing,
+  Thy flowing waters shall ne'er behold,
+    Till time has ceased from flowing.
+
+  (1866).
+
+
+
+
+  GRANTA VICTRIX.
+
+  Let penny-a-liners columns pour
+    Of turgid efflorescence,
+  Describe in language that would floor
+    Our Cayleys, Rouths, and Besants,
+  How Oxford oars as levers move,
+    While Cambridge mathematics,
+  Though excellent in theory, prove
+    Unstable in aquatics.
+
+  Our muse, a maiden ne'er renowned
+    For pride, or self-reliance,
+  Knows little of the depths profound
+    Of "Telegraphic" science:
+  But now her peace she cannot hold
+    And like a true Camena,
+  With look half-blushing and half-bold,
+    Descends into the arena.
+
+  Sing who was he that steered to win,
+    In spite of nine disasters,
+  And proved that men who ne'er give in
+    Must in the end be masters?
+  No warrior stern by land or sea,
+    With spurs, cocked hat, and sword on,
+  Has weightier work than fell to thee,
+    Our gallant little Gordon.
+
+  Who when old Cam was almost dead,
+    His glory almost mouldy,
+  Replaced the laurels on his head?
+    Sweet Echo answers--"Goldie."
+  Who was our Seven of mighty brawn
+    As valiant as a lion?
+  Who could he be but strapping Strachan,
+    Australia's vigorous scion?
+
+  Who rowed more fierce than lioness,
+    Bereft of all her whelps?
+  A thousand light-blue voices bless
+    The magic name of Phelps.
+  Who was our Five?  Herculean Lowe,
+    (Not he of the Exchequer),
+  So strong, that he with ease could row
+    A race in a three-decker.
+
+  Cam sighed--"When _shall_ I win a race"?
+    Fair Granta whispered--"When, Sir,
+  You see at Four, his proper place,
+    My Faerie-queen-like Spencer."
+  'Tis distance robes the mountain pale
+    In azure tints of bright hue,
+  'More than a distance' lends to Dale,
+    His well earned double light-blue.
+
+  Proud Oxford burnt in days of old
+    Ridley the Cambridge Martyr,
+  But this year in our Ridley bold
+    Proud Oxford caught a Tartar.
+  And Randolph rowed as well beseemed
+    His school renowned in story,
+  And like old Nelson only dreamed
+    Of Westminster and glory.
+
+  These men of weight rowed strong and straight,
+    And led from start to finish;
+  Their slow and steady thirty-eight
+    No spurts could e'er diminish:
+  Till Darbyshire, not given to lose,
+    Sees Cambridge rowing past him;
+  And Goldie steps into his shoes;
+    Long may their leather last him!
+
+  Glory be theirs who've won full well
+    The love of Alma Mater,
+  The smiles of every light-blue Belle,
+    The shouts of every Pater!
+  Unlimited was each man's store
+    Of courage, strength, and fettle,
+  From Goldie downwards every oar
+    Was ore of precious metal.
+
+  Then fare-ye-well till this time year,
+    Ye heroes stout and strapping,
+  And then beware, forgive my fear,
+    Lest Oxford find you napping;
+  And, oh! when o'er your work ye bend,
+    'Mid shouts of--"light-blue's winning,"
+  If ye would triumph in the end,
+    Remember the beginning!
+
+  P.S. The Muse true to her sex,
+    Less to be blamed than pitied,
+  A Post-script must of course annex
+    To state a point omitted.
+  When Granta glorying in success
+    With Camus pours her orisons;
+  One name she gratefully must bless,
+    That name is mighty Morrison's.
+
+
+
+
+  THE GREAT BOAT-RACE.
+
+  1. HAWKSHAW   3rd Trinity.       5. KINGLAKE     3rd Trinity.
+  2. PIGOTT     Corpus.            6. BORTHWICK    1st Trinity.
+  3. WATSON     Pembroke.          7. STEAVENSON   Trinity Hall.
+  4. HAWKINS    Lady Margaret.     8. SELWYN       3rd Trinity.
+                    Steerer, ARCHER, Corpus.
+
+
+  BEFORE THE RACE.
+
+  Come, list to me, who wish to hear the glories of our crew,
+  I'll tell you all the names of those who wear the
+      Cambridge Blue.
+  First HAWKSHAW comes, a stalwart bow, as
+      tough as oak, nay tougher;
+  Look at him ye who wish to see the Antipodes to "duffer."
+  Swift as the Hawk in airy flight, strong as the guardsman SHAW,
+  We men of mortal muscles must contemplate him with awe.
+  Though I dwell by Cam's slow river, and I hope
+      am not a bigot,
+  I think that Isis cannot boast a better man than PIGOTT:
+  Active, and strong, and steady, and never known to shirk,
+  Of Corpus the quintessence, he is always fit for work.
+  The men of Thames will be amazed when they
+      see our "Three" so strong,
+  And doubt if such a mighty form to mortal mould belong.
+  "_What son_ is this?" they, one and all, will ask
+      in awe and wonder;
+  The men of Cam will answer make, "A mighty son of thunder."
+  Next HAWKINS comes at "number 4," the sole surviving pet
+  Of the patroness of rowing, the Lady Margaret;
+  When they think of his broad shoulders, and
+      strong and sinewy arms,
+  Nor parents dear, nor brothers stern, need foster fond alarms.
+  O! a tear of love maternal in Etona's eye will quiver
+  When she sees her favourate KINGLAKE also
+      monarch of the river.
+  Oh! that I could honour fitly in this unassuming song
+  That wondrous combination of steady, long, and strong.
+  Then comes a true-blue mariner from the ever-glorious "First,"
+  In the golden arms of Glory and the lap of Victory nurst;
+  Though blue may be his colours, there are better oarsmen few,
+  And Oxford when it sees him will perhaps look still more blue.
+  Then comes the son of STEPHEN, as solid as a wall;
+  We need not add, who know his name, that he
+      hails from Trinity Hall.
+  Oh! in the race, when comes at last the struggle
+      close and dire,
+  May he have the wind and courage of his tutor and his sire;
+  May he think of all the glories of the ribbon black and white,
+  And add another jewel to the diadem so bright!
+  Then comes a name which Camus and Etona know full well
+  A name that's always sure to win and ne'er will prove a sell.
+  O what joy will fill a Bishop's heart oft a far
+      far distant shore,
+  When he sees our Stroke; reviving the memories of yore!
+  Then old Cam will he revisit in fancy's fairy dream,
+  And rouse once more with sounding oar the slow
+      and sluggish stream:
+  But who is this with voice so shrill, so resolute and ready?
+  Who cries so oft "too late!" "too soon!"
+      "quicker forward!" "Steady, steady!"
+  Why 'tis our young toxophilite, our ARCHER bold and true,
+  The lightest and the tightest who has ever
+      steered light-blue.
+  O when he pulls the yielding string may he
+      shoot both strong and straight,
+  And may the night be swift and sure of his mighty arrows eight!
+  May he add another victory to increase our Cambridge score;
+  May Father Thames again behold the light blue to the fore!
+  But ah! the name of Victory falls feebly on my ear--
+  Forgive me! 'tis not cowardice that bids me shed this tear,
+  I weep to think that three long years have
+      looked on our defeat;
+  For three long years we ne'er have known the
+      taste of triumph sweet;
+  O Father Cam!  O Father Thames!  O ye nymphs of Chiswick eyot!
+  O Triton!  O Poseidon!  Take some, pity on our fate!
+  What's the use of resolution, or of training, or of science,
+  If anxious friends and relatives to our efforts bid defiance?
+  If they take our strongest heroes from the middle of the boat,
+  Lest exposure to the weather should result in a sore throat?
+  We've rowed our boat when wave on wave o'er
+      ship and crew was dashing,
+  And little were we troubled by the steamers and the splashing.
+  O little do the light-blues care when tempests
+      round them gather,
+  We'll meet the raging of the skies, but not an angry father!
+  For though our vessel sank, our hearts were
+      buoyant as a feather,
+  Since we knew that we had done our best in
+      spite of wind and weather.
+  Then all ye Gods and Goddesses who rule o'er lake and river,
+  O wipe away the trembling tear which in mine eye doth quiver!
+  O wipe away the dire defeats that now we often suffer;
+  Let not the name of Cambridge blue be
+      breathed with that of "duffer!"
+  O melt the hearts of governors; for who can hope to thrive,
+  If, when we're just "together," they despoil us
+      of our "Five?"
+  And lastly, when 'mid shouts and cheers and
+      screams and deafening dins,
+  The two boats start upon their course--
+
+  AFTER THE RACE.
+
+  Dei mihi, Oxford wins!
+
+  (1864).
+
+
+
+
+  LINES BY A CAMBRIDGE ANCIENT MARINER
+
+  ADDRESSED TO HIS UNIVERSITY.
+
+  Wish ye, sons of Alma Mater,
+    Long lost laurels to replace?
+  Listen to a stout old Pater,
+    Once renowned in many a race.
+  Now, alas!  I'm fat and forty,
+    And my form grows round to view;
+  And my nose is rather "porty;"
+    But my heart is still light-blue.
+
+  'Tis as bad as an emetic,
+    E'en my 'baccy I refuse,
+  When I hear that sports athletic
+    Interfere with Cambridge crews.
+  Once a Grecian runner famous
+    Scorned to fight his country's foes;
+  And to Greece, as some to Camus,
+    Caused innumerable woes.
+
+  When I hear the voice parental
+    Cry, "my youngster shall not row!"
+  Then my wrath is transcendental,
+    Then my words with vigour flow.
+  Sires, with hearts of alabaster,
+    Your stern "vetos" yet you'll rue,
+  When ye see a sixth disaster,
+    Overwhelm your loved light-blue.
+
+  But whatever to Cambridge happen,
+    Sons of Cam behave like men!
+  Rally round your royal Cap'en,
+    _King_ of _Lake_, and King of Fen!
+  Fortune helps the brave who court her,
+    Only to yourselves be true;
+  And perhaps, on Putney's water,
+    Victory will crown light-blue.
+
+  When your Cox'en cries "all ready,"
+    Be alert, dismiss all napping,
+  Get well forward, all sit steady,
+    Grasp the oar, avoid all "capping:"
+  Shoulders square, back straight, eyes ever
+    Fixed upon the back before;
+  Then all eight, with one endeavour,
+    Dip at once the bladed oar.
+
+  Catch your stroke at the beginning,
+    Then let legs with vigour work:
+  Little hope has he of winning,
+    Who his "stretcher" loves to shirk.
+  Let your rigid arms extended
+    Be as straight as pokers two;
+  And until the stroke is ended,
+    Pull it, without jerking, through!
+
+  Thus all disputations spurning,
+    Ye, ere many a year has past,
+  While old Fortune's wheel is turning,
+    Victory shall taste at last.
+  Only wait and work together;
+    Trust in discipline and pluck--
+  Soon bad luck will run his tether,
+    And good rowing bring good luck.
+
+  (1866).
+
+
+
+
+  THE SORROWS OF FATHER CAM.
+
+  1. WATNEY    Lady Margaret.    5. STEAVENSON  Trinity Hall
+  2. BEEBEE    Lady Margaret.    6. BORTHWICK   1st Trinity.
+  3. PIGOTT    Corpus            7. GRIFFITHS   3rd Trinity.
+  4. KINGLAKE  3rd Trinity.      8. LAWES       3rd Trinity.
+                   Steerer, ARCHER, Corpus.
+
+
+  One night, as I silently wandered
+    By Cam's slow meandering stream,
+  And many things mentally pondered,
+    I saw, as it were in a dream,
+  A black head emerge from the billows,
+    A broad body swim through the flood,
+  Till, beneath the o'ershadowing willows,
+    It sank gently down in the mud.
+
+  All alone--as a Scholar of Tyrwhitt
+    When examined in Hebrew he sits--
+  On a log that mysterious spirit
+    Smokes in silence, and silently spits.
+  And yet not alone sat the vision;
+    There came, as he sat on his log,
+  A wag of delight and submission
+    From the tail of each demi-drowned dog.
+
+  Black eels from his temples were hanging,
+    His teeth were like teeth of a jack;
+  His lips were inaudibly "slanging";
+    His eyes were all muddy and black;
+  And water-snakes, round his neck twining,
+    Were hissing; and water-rats swam
+  At his feet; so without much divining
+    I recognised Old Father Cam.
+
+  "All hail to thee, Camus the reedy!"
+    I cried, in alarm and surprise;
+  "Say, why are thy garments so weedy?
+    And why are these tears in thine eyes?"
+  Then the River-god answered me sadly,
+    "My glory aquatic is gone!
+  My prospects, alas! look but badly;
+    Not a race for four years have I won.
+
+  "I have oarsmen as strong---even stronger--
+    Than when my first honours I bore;
+  Their arms are as long--perhaps longer;
+    Their shoulders as broad as of yore,
+  Yet the prospects of light-blue look bluer;
+    I am losing my swing, form and time;
+  For who can row well in a sewer;
+    Or pull through miasma and slime?"
+
+  Thus murmured the River-god moaning;
+    But I bade him to dry his old eye--
+  "In vain is this weeping and groaning;
+    Let your motto be, 'Never say die!'
+  Though your waves be more foul than Cocytus,
+    Though your prospects, no doubt, are most blue;
+  Since Oxford is ready to fight us,
+    We will try to select a good crew.
+
+  My friend Lady Margaret tells me
+    She can lend me a Bow and a Two;
+  The Lady, I own, sometimes sells me,
+    But this time I am sure she'll be true.
+  For WATNEY is wiry and plucky,
+    And that BEEBEE'S A 1 all allow;
+  And our boat cannot fail to be lucky
+    With a double 1st Class in the bow.
+
+  "Then Corpus its PIGOTT shall lend us,
+    Young, healthy, and active, and strong;
+  And Etona her KINGLAKE shall send us,
+    To row our good vessel along;
+  And Five from the head of the river,
+    Like Pallas from Jove's head appearing,
+  Shall add to the weight of the quiver
+    Of the feather-weight Argonaut steering.
+
+  "Then BORTHWICK, the mighty and massive,
+    Shall row like a Briton at Six;
+  And GRIFFITHS, not prone to be passive,
+    Shall pull us to glory like bricks.
+  Our 'Stroke,' people say, on the feather
+    Is a trifle too fond of a pause;
+  But while some say, 'there's nothing like leather,'
+    I maintain there is nothing like LAWES.
+
+  "Washerwomen, not over aquatic,
+    Says he rows 'like a mangle'--what trash!
+  That his swing and his time are erratic;
+    That he puts in his oar with a splash.
+  But these wonderful judges of rowing,
+    If we win will be loud in applause;
+  And declare 'the result was all owing
+    To that excellent stroke, MR. LAWES.'
+
+  "Our Coach, on the bank briskly riding,
+    Will keep his strong team well together,
+  His Bucephalus gamely bestriding,
+    In spite of the wind and the weather.
+  For the laws of the land you may send me
+    To Counsel from chambers in Town;
+  For the laws of the river commend me
+    To the CHAMBERS of Cambridge renown.
+
+  "Then cheer up, beloved Father Camus!
+    Blow your nose! dry those tears that are falling;
+  You will live once again to be famous,
+    In spite of the prospects appalling.
+  Though dead dogs down your fair stream are floating,
+    Father Cam will their odours defy;
+  Though Oxford may beat us in boating,
+    Yet Cambridge will 'never say die!'"
+
+  (1865).
+
+
+
+
+  THE COMING BOAT RACE.
+
+       OXFORD.                    CAMBRIDGE.
+
+       1. R. T. RAIKES.           1. J. STILL.
+       2. F. CROWDER.             2. J. R. SELWYN.
+       3. W. FREEMAN.             3. J. A. BOURKE.
+       4. F. WILLAN.              4. J. FORTESCUE.
+       5. E. F. HENLEY.           5. D. F. STEVENSON.
+       6. W. W. WOOD.             6. R. A. KINGLAKE.
+       7. H. P. SENHOUSE.         7. H. WATNEY.
+       8. M. BROWN.               8. W. R. GRIFFITHS.
+  Steerer--C. R. W. TOTTENHAM.    Steerer--A. FORBES.
+
+
+  Attend, all ye who wish to see the names
+      of each stout crew,
+  Who've come to town from cap and gown to
+      fight for their favourite blue.
+
+
+  OXFORD.
+
+  First TOTTENHAM comes, a well-known name, that
+      cattle driving Cox'en.
+  Who oft to victory has steer'd his gallant team of Oxon.
+
+  O'er Putney's course so well can he that team in safety goad,
+  That we ought to call old Father Thames the
+      Oxford-Tottenham Road.
+  Then comes the Stroke, a mariner of merit and renown;
+  Since dark blue are his colours, he can never be dun-brown.
+  Ye who would at your leisure his heroic deeds peruse,
+  Go, read _Tom Brown at Oxford_ by the other Tom--TOM HUGHES.
+  Next SENHOUSE, short for Senate-house, but long
+      enough for seven,
+  Shall to the _eight-oar'd_ ship impart a _sen-at-orial_ leaven.
+  Then Number Six (no truer word was ever said in joke)
+  In keeping with his name of WOOD, has heart and limbs of oak.
+  The voice of all aquatic men the praise of "Five" proclaims;
+  No finer sight can eye delight than "HENLEY-upon-Thames."
+  Then Number Four who is heaver far than a number of Macmillan,
+  Though WILLAN'S his name may well exclaim,
+      "Here I am, but I hain't a willan." [1]
+  Then FREEMAN rows at Number Three, in a freer and manly style;
+  No finer oar was e'er produced by the Tiber, Thames, or Nile.
+  Let politicians, if they please, rob freemen of their vote,
+  Provided they leave Oxford men a FREEMAN for their boat.
+  Among the crowd of oarsmen proud no name
+      will fame shout louder
+  Than his who sits at Number Two, the straight
+      and upright CROWDER.
+  Then RAIKES rows bow, and we must allow that
+      with all the weight that's aft
+  The bow-oar gives a rakish air to the bows o'
+      the dark-blue craft.
+  This is the crew, who've donned dark blue, and
+      no stouter team of Oxon
+  Has ploughed the waves of old Father Thames,
+      or owned a better Cox'en.
+
+
+      CAMBRIDGE.
+
+  Now, don't refuse, aquatic Muse, the glories to rehearse
+  Of the rival crew, who've donned light blue, to
+      row for better for worse.
+  They've lost their luck, but retain their pluck,
+      and whate'er their fate may be,
+  Light blue may meet one more defeat, but disgrace
+      they ne'er will see.
+  We've seen them row thro' sleet and snow till
+      they sank--"_merses profundo_"
+  (HORACE, forgive me!) "_pulchrior Cami evenit arundo_."
+  First little FORBES our praise absorbs, he comes
+      from a learned College,
+  So Cambridge hopes he will pull his ropes with
+      scientific knowledge.
+  May he shun the charge of swinging barge
+      more straight than an archer's arrow,
+  May he steer his eight, as he sits sedate in the
+      stern of his vessel narrow!
+  Then comes the Stroke, with a heart of oak, who
+      has stood to his flag like twenty,
+  While some stood aloof, and were not proof
+      against _dolce far niente_.
+  So let us pray that GRIFFITHS may to the banks of Cam recall
+  The swing and style, lost for a while, since the
+      days of JONES and HALL.
+  Then WATNEY comes, and a pluckier seven ne'er
+      rowed in a Cambridge crew;
+  His long straight swing is just the thing which
+      an oarsman loves to view.
+  Then comes KINGLAKE, of a massive make, who
+      in spite of failures past,
+  Like a sailor true, has nailed light-blue as his
+      colours to the mast.
+  The Consul bold in days of old was thanked by
+      the Patres hoary,
+  When, in spite of luck, he displayed his pluck on
+      the field of Cannae gory;
+  So whate'er the fate of the Cambridge eight, let
+      Cambridge men agree,
+  Their voice to raise in their Captain's praise
+      with thrice and three times three.
+  Then Number Five is all alive, and for hard work always ready,
+  As to and fro his broad back doth go, like a
+      pendulum strong and steady.
+  Then FORTESCUE doth pull it through without delay or dawdlin';
+  Right proud I trow as they see him row are the
+      merry men of Magdalen.
+  Then comes a name well known to fame, the
+      great and gallant BOURKE;
+  Who ne'er was known fatigue to own, or neglect
+      his share of work.
+  _New zeal and_ life to each new stroke stout SELWYN doth impart,
+  And ever with fresh vigour, like Antaeus, forward start.
+  Then last, but not the least of all, to row the boat along,
+  They've got a bow whom all allow to be both STILL and strong.
+  No crew can quail, or ever fail to labour with a will,
+  When so much strength and spirits are supplied
+      them by their STILL.
+  We've done our task--to you who ask the probable result
+  We more will speak, if you next week our Prophet will consult.
+
+  (1866)
+
+[1] Cf. _Pickwick_.  "Here I am, but I hain't a willan."--FAT BOY.
+
+
+
+
+  A BALLAD.
+
+  I.
+
+  I cannot rest o' the night, Mother,
+    For my heart is cold and wan:
+  I fear the return o' light, Mother,
+    Since my own true love is gone.
+  O winsome aye was his face, Mother,
+    And tender his bright blue eye;
+  But his beauty and manly grace, Mother,
+    Beneath the dark earth do lie.
+
+
+  II.
+
+  They tell me that I am young, Mother,
+    That joy will return once more;
+  But sorrow my heart has wrung, Mother,
+    And I feel the wound full sore.
+  The tree at the root frost-bitten
+    Will flourish never again,
+  And the woe that my life hath smitten
+    Hath frozen each inmost vein.
+
+
+  III.
+
+  Whene'er the moon's shining clear, Mother,
+    I think o' my lover that's gone;
+  Heaven seem'd to draw very near, Mother,
+    As above us in glory it shone.
+  Ah! whither hath fled all my gladness?
+    Ah! would from life I could fly!
+  That laying me down in my sadness
+    I might kiss thee, my Mother, and die!
+
+
+
+
+  AN APRIL SQUALL.
+
+  Breathless is the deep blue sky;
+  Breathless doth the blue sea lie;
+  And scarcely can my heart believe,
+  'Neath such a sky, on such a wave,
+  That Heaven can frown and billows rave,
+  Or Beauty so divine deceive.
+
+  Softly sail we with the tide;
+  Silently our bark doth glide;
+  Above our heads no clouds appear:
+  Only in the West afar
+  A dark spot, like a baneful star,
+  Doth herald tempests dark and drear.
+
+  And now the wind is heard to sigh;
+  The waters heave unquietly;
+  The Heaven above is darkly scowling;
+  Down with the sail!  They come, they come!
+  Loos'd from the depths of their wintry home,
+  The wild fiends of the storm are howling.
+
+  Hold tight, and tug at the straining oar,
+  For the wind is rising more and more:
+  Row like a man through the dashing brine!
+  Row on!--already the squall is past:
+  No more the sky is overcast;
+  Again the sun doth brightly shine.
+
+  Oh! higher far is the well-earn'd bliss
+  Of quiet after a storm like this
+  Than all the joys of selfish ease:
+  'Tis thus I would row o'er the sea of Life,
+  Thus force my way through the roar and strife,
+  And win repose by toils like these.
+
+
+
+
+  BEDFORDSHIRE BALLAD.--I.
+
+  THE TWO MAIDENS.
+
+
+  [The following Verses were written for a country Penny Reading].
+
+  Two Bedfordshire maidens in one village dwelt;
+  Side by side in their Church every Sunday they knelt;
+  They were not very pretty and not very plain;
+  And their names were Eliza and Emily Jane.
+
+  Now Carpenter Smith was young, steady and still,
+  And wherever he went, worked and played with a will:
+  To bed he went early, and early did rise;
+  So, of course, he was healthy, and wealthy, and wise.
+
+  But John he grew tired of a bachelor's life,
+  So he looked all around him in search of a wife;
+  And his eyes, as they wandered, again and again
+  Returned to Eliza and Emily Jane.
+
+  And whenever those maidens encountered his eye,
+  Their pulses beat quickly (perhaps you know _why_);
+  They each of them thought him a wonderful Don,
+  And wished to be married to Carpenter John.
+
+  But John, as you've heard, was a prudent young man;
+  And determined their faults and their merits to scan;
+  Says he, "If I marry, I'm tied for my life;
+  "So it's well to be cautious in choosing a wife."
+
+  Now I'm sorry to say that young Emily Jane
+  Was disposed to be rather conceited and vain;
+  In fact, for the truth I'm obliged to confess,
+  Was decidedly fond of extravagant dress.
+
+  So she thought the best way to the Carpenter's heart
+  Was to purchase gay dresses and finery smart;
+  In the carrier's van off to Bedford she went,
+  And many weeks' wages in finery spent.
+
+  Her dress it was blue, and her ribbons were green,
+  And her chignon the highest that ever was seen,
+  And perched on the top, heavy-laden with flowers,
+  Was a bonnet, embosomed in beautiful bowers.
+
+  So red, as she walked to the Church, was her shawl
+  That the bull in the farm-yard did bellow and bawl;
+  And so high were her heels that on entering the door
+  She slipped, and she stumbled, and fell on the floor.
+
+  Says Carpenter Smith, "It's decidedly plain
+  "That I'd better keep clear of that Emily Jane:"
+  So from Emily Jane he averted his eye,
+  And just at that moment Eliza passed by.
+
+  Now Eliza had thought, "If his heart I subdue,
+  "It shall not be by dresses and finery new:
+  "For a lover who's taken by ornaments gay
+  "Will love some one else ere a week pass away."
+
+  So her ribbons were lilac; white straw was her bonnet;
+  Her dress was light grey, with dark braiding upon it;
+  Her jacket was black; and her boots of stout leather
+  Were fitted for walking in all sorts of weather.
+
+  She was not very pretty, and yet in her smile
+  There was something that charmed by its freedom from guile:
+  And tho' lowly her lot, yet her natural grace
+  Made her look like a lady in figure and face.
+
+  A rose from the garden she wore on her breast,
+  And John, as her fingers he tenderly press'd,
+  Seemed to feel a sharp arrow ('twas Cupid's first dart)
+  Come straight from the rosebud and enter his heart.
+
+  Now John and Eliza are husband and wife;
+  Their quarrels are few, and contented their life;
+  They eat and they drink and they dress in good taste,
+  For their money they spend on their wants, not in waste.
+
+  But I'm sorry to say that Miss Emily Jane
+  Has still an aversion to dress that is plain;
+  And the consequence is that she always has stayed,
+  And is likely to stay, a disconsolate maid.
+
+
+  MORAL.
+
+  Young ladies, I hope you'll attend to my moral,
+  When you hear it, I'm sure you and I shall not quarrel:
+  If you're pretty, fine dress is not needed to show it;
+  If you're ugly, fine dress will make all the world know it.
+
+  Young men, if you wish, as I trust you all do,
+  A partner for worse or for better to woo,
+  Don't marry a _peacock_ dressed out in gay feathers,
+  But a _wife_ guaranteed to wear well in all weathers.
+
+
+
+
+  BEDFORDSHIRE BALLAD.--II.
+
+  "ONE GLASS OF BEER."
+
+  Ne quid nimis.
+
+
+  Tom Smith was the son of a Bedfordshire man;
+  (The Smiths, we all know, are a numerous clan)
+  He was happy and healthy and handsome and strong,
+  And could sing on occasion a capital song.
+
+  His father had once been a labourer poor,
+  But had always contrived to keep want from the door;
+  And by work and by thrift had enough in his pocket
+  To rent a small farm from his landlord, and stock it.
+
+  He died: Tom succeeded: the ladies all said
+  It was high time he went to the Church to be wed;
+  And Sarah and Clara, and Fanny and Bess,
+  Confessed if he "offer'd" perhaps they'd say "Yes."
+
+  But Tom fixed his eyes on the Miller's young daughter,
+  And was only awaiting the right time to court her;
+  So one day as he saw her walk out from the mill,
+  He set off in pursuit with a very good will.
+
+  Now Tom, I must tell you, had one little fault,
+  He was rather too fond of a mixture of malt;
+  In fact, if my meaning is not very clear,
+  I'm afraid he was rather too "partial to Beer."
+
+  Says Tom to himself as he followed the maid,
+  "I should like just a glass, for I'm rather afraid"--
+  No doubt at such times men are nervous and queer,
+  So he stopped at the Public for _one glass of Beer_.
+
+  He had his one glass, and then two or three more,
+  And when he set out from the Public-house door
+  He saw a sad sight, and he saw it with groans--
+  Mary Anne on the arm of Theophilus Jones.
+
+  Yes, Theophilus Jones was a steady young man,
+  Who enjoyed but was never too fond of his can;
+  And while Smith in the public was stopping to swill,
+  Jones had woo'd and had won the fair maid of the mill.
+
+  Tom homeward returned like a runaway pup,
+  When the lash of the whipper-in touches him up;
+  And he sighed to himself, "It's most painfully clear
+  That I've lost a _good wife_ for a _bad glass of Beer_."
+
+        *      *      *      *      *
+
+  At length he was married to Emily Brown--
+  A tidier girl there was none in the town--
+  The church bells were ringing, the village was gay,
+  As Tom met his bride in her bridal array.
+
+  For a twelvemonth or more things went on pretty straight;
+  Tom went early to work, and was never home late;
+  But after that time a sad change, it would seem,
+  Came over the spirit of Emily's dream.
+
+  The Rector missed Tom from his place in the choir;
+  In the evening his wife sat alone by the fire;
+  When her husband came home he was never too early,
+  And his manner was dull, and at times even surly.
+
+  He was late in the autumn in sowing his wheat;
+  His bullocks and sheep had disease of the feet;
+  His sows had small litters; his taters went bad;
+  And he took _just a glass_ when he felt rather sad.
+
+  The Rector's "good lady" was passing one day,
+  And looked in, her usual visit to pay--
+  "How dy'e do, Mrs. Smith?  Is the baby quite well?
+  Have you got any eggs, or young chickens to sell?"
+
+  But Emily Smith couldn't answer a word;
+  At length her reply indistinctly was heard;
+  "I'm all of a mullock [1], it's no use denying--"
+  And with that the poor woman she burst out a crying.
+
+  Then after a time with her apron she dried
+  The tears from her eyes, and more calmly replied,
+  "I don't mind confessing the truth, ma'am, to you,
+  For I've found in you always a comforter true.
+
+  Things are going to ruin; the land's full o' twitch;
+  There's no one to clean out a drain or a ditch;
+  The gates are all broken, the fences all down;
+  And the state of our farm is the talk of the town.
+
+  We've lost a young horse, and another's gone lame;
+  Our hay's not worth carting; the wheat's much the same;
+  Our pigs and our cattle are always astray;
+  Our milk's good-for-nothing; our hens never lay.
+
+  Tom ain't a bad husband, as husbands do go;
+  (That ain't saying much, as I daresay you know)
+  But there's one thing that puts him and me out o' gear--
+  He's always a craving for _one glass of Beer_.
+
+  He never gets drunk, but he's always half-fuddled;
+  He wastes all his time, and his wits are all muddled;
+  "We've notice to quit for next Michaelmas year--
+  All owing to Tom and his _one glass of Beer_!"
+
+
+  MORAL.
+
+  My friends, I believe we shall none of us quarrel
+  If I try from this story to draw out a moral;
+  Tom Smith, I am told, has now taken the pledge;
+  Let us hope he will keep the right side of the hedge.
+
+  But because men like Tom find it hard to _refrain_,
+  It's hard that we temperate folk should _abstain_;
+  Tea and coffee no doubt are most excellent cheer
+  But a hard-working man likes his _one glass of Beer_.
+
+  What with 'chining [2] and hoeing and ploughing and drill,
+  A glass of good beer will not make a man ill;
+  But one glass, like poison, you never must touch--
+  It's the glass which is commonly called _one too much_!
+
+
+[1] Muddle.
+
+[2] Machining, _i.e._ threshing by machinery.
+
+
+
+
+  BEDFORDSHIRE BALLAD.--III.
+
+  FRED AND BILL.
+
+
+  Two twins were once born in a Bedfordshire home;
+  Such events in the best managed households may come;
+  Tho', as Tomkins remarked in a voice rather gruff,
+  "One child at a time for poor folks is enough."
+
+  But it couldn't be helped, so his wife did her best;
+  The children were always respectably drest;
+  Went early to school; were put early to bed;
+  And had plenty of taters and bacon and bread.
+
+  Now we all should suppose that the two, being twins,
+  Resembled each other as much as two pins:
+  But no--they as little resembled each other
+  As the man in the moon is "a man and a brother."
+
+  Fred's eyes were dark brown, and his hair was jet black;
+  He was supple in body, and straight in the back,
+  Learnt his lessons without any trouble at all;
+  And was lively, intelligent, comely, and tall.
+
+  But Willy was thick-set; and freckled and fair;
+  Had eyes of light blue, and short curly red hair;
+  And, as I should like you the whole truth to know,
+  The schoolmaster thought him "decidedly slow."
+
+  But the Parson, who often came into the school,
+  Had discovered that Willy was far from a fool,
+  And that tho' he was not very quick in his pace,
+  In the end "slow and steady" would win in the race.
+
+  Years passed--Fred grew idle and peevish and queer;
+  Took to skittles, bad language, tobacco, and beer:
+  Grew tired of his work, when it scarce was begun;
+  Was Jack of all trades and the master of none.
+
+  He began as a labourer, then was a clerk;
+  Drove a hansom in London by way of a "lark;"
+  Enlisted, deserted, and finally fled
+  Abroad, and was thought by his friends to be dead.
+
+  But Willy meanwhile was content with his lot;
+  He was slow, but he always was found on the spot;
+  He wasted no money on skittles and ale,
+  But put by his pence, when he could, without fail.
+
+  To the Penny Bank weekly his savings he took,
+  And soon had a pretty round sum in his book:
+  No miser was he, but he thought it sound sense
+  In the days of his youth to put by a few pence.
+
+  And so he got on; he was no millionaire,
+  But he always had money enough and to spare;
+  Could help a poor friend; pay his rent and his rate;
+  And always put silver at church in the plate.
+
+  His brother, meantime, who was thought to be dead,
+  Had across the Atlantic to Canada fled;
+  Then had gone to New York; then New Zealand had tried;
+  But always had failed thro' perverseness and pride.
+
+  He might have done well, but wherever he went,
+  As soon as his money came in, it was spent;
+  As of old he tried all trades, and prospered in none,
+  For he thought that hard work was "a poor sort of fun."
+
+  Then he heard of "the diggings," and there tried his luck;
+  He was never deficient in smartness and pluck;
+  And by means of some work, and more luck, in a year
+  He managed to make fifteen hundred pounds clear.
+
+  Then he thought of old England and Bedfordshire chums,
+  So back to his parish in triumph he comes;
+  And need I remark he found many a friend
+  Right willing to help him his nuggets to spend?
+
+  He turned up his nose at his poor brother Bill,
+  Who was always content to be plodding up hill;
+  Hard work he disliked, he despised peace and quiet,
+  So he spent all his time and his money in riot.
+
+  There was never a horse-race but Fred he was there;
+  He went to each meet, meeting, marker and fair;
+  In a few words, his candle he burnt to the socket,
+  Till he found one fine day not a rap in His pocket.
+
+  Then his poor brother Bill came and lent him a hand;
+  Gave him work and a share of his own bit of land;
+  If he means to keep steady I cannot surmise--
+  Let us hope that at length Fred has learnt to be wise.
+
+  But one thing is plain, if you mean to get on,
+  You will find that success must by patience be won;
+  In the battle of life do not trust to your luck,
+  But to honest hard work, perseverance, and pluck.
+
+  Don't turn up your nose at a hard-working chap,
+  For pride soon or later must meet with mishap;
+  And wherever your lot in the world may be cast,
+  "Slow and steady" goes safer than "foolish and fast."
+
+  Take warning by Fred, and avoid for a friend
+  The man who would tempt you your savings to spend;
+  Don't waste your spare money in riotous pranks,
+  But put it in Penny, or Post-office Banks.
+
+
+
+
+  BEDFORDSHIRE BALLAD.--IV.
+
+  HOME, SWEET HOME.
+
+
+  I'm a Bedfordshire Chap, and Bill Stumps is my name,
+  And to tell it don't give me no manner of shame;
+  For a man as works honest and hard for his livin',
+  When he tells you his name, needn't feel no misgivin'.
+
+  And works's what I live by.  At dawn o' the day,
+  While some folks is snorin', I'm up and away;
+  When I stops for my Bavor [1], 'twould dew your heart good,
+  To see how I relish the taste o' my food.
+
+  I'm fond o' my hoein', and ploughin', and drill,
+  And my hosses all knows me and works with a will;
+  I'm fond o' my 'chinin', and thackin' and drainin',
+  For when work's to be done, 'taint no use a complainin.'
+
+  I whistles a tune if the mornins be dark;
+  When I goes home o' nights, I sings sweet as a lark;
+  And you'll travel some distance afore you can find
+  A chap more contented and happy in mind.
+
+  And I'll tell ye the reason, I've got a good wife,
+  The joy o' my heart, and the pride o' my life.
+  She ain't made o' gold, nor ain't much of a beauty,
+  But she's allers a tryin' to dew of her duty.
+
+  And a tidier home there ain't none in the town
+  Than mine and my Polly's--I'll lay you a crown!
+  If it ain't quite a palace, I'm sure 'tis as clean:
+  And I'm King o' my cottage, and Polly's the Queen.
+
+  But things wasn't allers as lively as now--
+  There's thirty good years since I fust went to plough;
+  I wor then but a lad, and a bad'un, I fear,
+  Just a trifle tew partial to baccy and beer.
+
+  So my maister he very soon gone me the sack,
+  And my faither he gone me the stick to my back;
+  But I cared for his bangins and blows not a rap;
+  I wor sich a queer onaccountable chap!
+
+  To make a long story as short as I can;
+  When I'd done as a boy, I became a young man;
+  And, as happens to most men at that time o' life,
+  I axed a young 'ooman if she'd be my wife.
+
+  And Poll she consented.  O, how my heart beat,
+  When she gone me her hand, smilin' wonderful sweet!
+  I could hear my heart beatin', just like a Church bell,
+  Till I thought as my weskit 'ud bust pretty well.
+
+  But worn't I main happy, and well nigh a crazy,
+  When I heard her her say "Yes," blushin' sweet as a daisy!
+  We was axed in the church--no one dared to say nay;
+  So The Rector he spliced us, one fine soommer day.
+
+  My Poll wor a steady young gal, and a good 'un
+  For washin' and scrubbin', and makin' a pudden;
+  Not one o them gossiping gals, wot I hate,
+  But a quoietish 'ooman, wi' brains in her pate.
+
+  But soom how or other things didn't go right;
+  There wasn't atwixt us no manner o' spite;
+  But I stayed out o' Saturdays nights, and I fear
+  Spent more nor I'd ought on my baccy and beer.
+
+  And Poll she look'd sadly, but didn't say nought;
+  She was one as 'ud allers say less than she thought;
+  But I know'd what she thought--so a cloud kind o' come,
+  And darkened the sun as once shone in our home,
+
+  But it come to a pass--'twas the fifth o' November,
+  The day and the year I shall allers remember:
+  Twas midnight and past when I come to my door,
+  Scarce able to stan'--well, I won't say no more?
+
+  Next mornin' my head it wor well nigh a splitten,
+  And I stagger'd and stagger'd, as weak as a kitten;
+  But the wust of it all wor the dressin' I got
+  From Polly--oh, worn't it main spicy and hot?
+
+  What she said I won't tell you; but you married men,
+  As knows wot it is to be pecked by a hen,
+  Wot I means yer to guess pretty plainish 'ull find,
+  When I tells you she gone me "a bit of her mind."
+
+  And now I'm as sober as sober can be,
+  And me and my Poll, as we sits down to tea,
+  Don't care very far of an evenin' to roam--
+  We're allers so jolly contented at home.
+
+  I wears no blue ribbon outside o' my coat,
+  For a pint o' good ale seems to freshen my throat;
+  But offer me more and I'm bound to refuse it--
+  For my Poll's got a tongue, and her knows how to use it.
+
+  So I takes just a pint, when there's coppers to spare--
+  A pint wi' your dinner ain't no great affair--
+  But the time' o' the day as suits Polly and me,
+  Is when we sits down of an evenin' to tea.
+
+  For the young 'uns sits round us all smilin' and clean;
+  And Sally knits stockings wot's fit for the Queen;
+  Little Bill reads a book, and Jemima she sews,
+  And how happy our home is the parish all knows.
+
+        *      *      *      *      *      *
+
+  Now young men and maids, if ye'll listen to me,
+  I'll give you some counsel all gratis and free--
+  Young men if you want to be happy in life,
+  Remember Bill Stumps, and look out for a wife.
+
+  Not one o' them husseys as gossips and chatters,
+  And is allers o' mindin' of other folk's matters,
+  But one as 'ull work, and be gentle and kind,
+  And as knows when to gi'e you "a bit of her mind."
+
+  Young maids who are willing young wives to become,
+  Remember, the sweetest of places is home;
+  But remember, no husband 'ull find his home sweet,
+  If it ain't bright and cheerful, and tidy and neat.
+
+  If all's of a mullock and dirty and dusty,
+  When he pops home to dinner, he'll turn rayther crusty;
+  But be tidy, and careful in cookin' his grub,
+  And, I'll bet what you like, he wont go to the Pub.
+
+  So send off the young'uns to school afore nine;
+  And when they and faither come home for to dine,
+  Don't gi'e 'em cold taters and bacon half-fried,
+  But a meal as 'ull cheer 'em and warm their inside.
+
+  And don't let the children go roamin' o' night,
+  But keep 'em at home for their faither's delight;
+  And I hope you may all be as happy and jolly,
+  In your Bedfordshire homes, as Bill Stumps and his Polly!
+
+
+[1] Bedfordshire for Luncheon.
+
+
+
+
+FINIS.
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+
+End of Project Gutenberg's Sagittulae, Random Verses, by E. W. Bowling
+
+*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SAGITTULAE, RANDOM VERSES ***
+
+***** This file should be named 18009.txt or 18009.zip *****
+This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:
+        http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/0/0/18009/
+
+Produced by Al Haines
+
+Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions
+will be renamed.
+
+Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no
+one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation
+(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without
+permission and without paying copyright royalties.  Special rules,
+set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to
+copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to
+protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark.  Project
+Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you
+charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission.  If you
+do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the
+rules is very easy.  You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose
+such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and
+research.  They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do
+practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks.  Redistribution is
+subject to the trademark license, especially commercial
+redistribution.
+
+
+
+*** START: FULL LICENSE ***
+
+THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE
+PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK
+
+To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free
+distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work
+(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at
+http://gutenberg.org/license).
+
+
+Section 1.  General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic works
+
+1.A.  By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to
+and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property
+(trademark/copyright) agreement.  If you do not agree to abide by all
+the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy
+all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession.
+If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the
+terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or
+entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8.
+
+1.B.  "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark.  It may only be
+used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who
+agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement.  There are a few
+things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works
+even without complying with the full terms of this agreement.  See
+paragraph 1.C below.  There are a lot of things you can do with Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement
+and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.  See paragraph 1.E below.
+
+1.C.  The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation"
+or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic works.  Nearly all the individual works in the
+collection are in the public domain in the United States.  If an
+individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are
+located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from
+copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative
+works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg
+are removed.  Of course, we hope that you will support the Project
+Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by
+freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of
+this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with
+the work.  You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by
+keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project
+Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others.
+
+1.D.  The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern
+what you can do with this work.  Copyright laws in most countries are in
+a constant state of change.  If you are outside the United States, check
+the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement
+before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or
+creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project
+Gutenberg-tm work.  The Foundation makes no representations concerning
+the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United
+States.
+
+1.E.  Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg:
+
+1.E.1.  The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate
+access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently
+whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the
+phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project
+Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed,
+copied or distributed:
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
+almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
+re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
+with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
+
+1.E.2.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived
+from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is
+posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied
+and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees
+or charges.  If you are redistributing or providing access to a work
+with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the
+work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1
+through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the
+Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or
+1.E.9.
+
+1.E.3.  If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted
+with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution
+must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional
+terms imposed by the copyright holder.  Additional terms will be linked
+to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the
+permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work.
+
+1.E.4.  Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this
+work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm.
+
+1.E.5.  Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this
+electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without
+prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with
+active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm License.
+
+1.E.6.  You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary,
+compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any
+word processing or hypertext form.  However, if you provide access to or
+distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than
+"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version
+posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org),
+you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a
+copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon
+request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other
+form.  Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1.
+
+1.E.7.  Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying,
+performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works
+unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9.
+
+1.E.8.  You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing
+access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided
+that
+
+- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from
+     the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method
+     you already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  The fee is
+     owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he
+     has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the
+     Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation.  Royalty payments
+     must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you
+     prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax
+     returns.  Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and
+     sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the
+     address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to
+     the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."
+
+- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies
+     you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he
+     does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm
+     License.  You must require such a user to return or
+     destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium
+     and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of
+     Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any
+     money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the
+     electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days
+     of receipt of the work.
+
+- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free
+     distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works.
+
+1.E.9.  If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm
+electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set
+forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from
+both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael
+Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark.  Contact the
+Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below.
+
+1.F.
+
+1.F.1.  Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable
+effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread
+public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm
+collection.  Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain
+"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or
+corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual
+property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a
+computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by
+your equipment.
+
+1.F.2.  LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right
+of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project
+Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project
+Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all
+liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal
+fees.  YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT
+LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE
+PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH F3.  YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE
+TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE
+LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR
+INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH
+DAMAGE.
+
+1.F.3.  LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a
+defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can
+receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a
+written explanation to the person you received the work from.  If you
+received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with
+your written explanation.  The person or entity that provided you with
+the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a
+refund.  If you received the work electronically, the person or entity
+providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to
+receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund.  If the second copy
+is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further
+opportunities to fix the problem.
+
+1.F.4.  Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth
+in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER
+WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO
+WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE.
+
+1.F.5.  Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied
+warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages.
+If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the
+law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be
+interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by
+the applicable state law.  The invalidity or unenforceability of any
+provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions.
+
+1.F.6.  INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the
+trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone
+providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance
+with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production,
+promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works,
+harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees,
+that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do
+or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm
+work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any
+Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause.
+
+
+Section  2.  Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of
+electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers
+including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers.  It exists
+because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from
+people in all walks of life.
+
+Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the
+assistance they need, is critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's
+goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will
+remain freely available for generations to come.  In 2001, the Project
+Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure
+and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations.
+To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
+and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4
+and the Foundation web page at http://www.pglaf.org.
+
+
+Section 3.  Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive
+Foundation
+
+The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit
+501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the
+state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal
+Revenue Service.  The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification
+number is 64-6221541.  Its 501(c)(3) letter is posted at
+http://pglaf.org/fundraising.  Contributions to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent
+permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws.
+
+The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S.
+Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered
+throughout numerous locations.  Its business office is located at
+809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email
+business@pglaf.org.  Email contact links and up to date contact
+information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official
+page at http://pglaf.org
+
+For additional contact information:
+     Dr. Gregory B. Newby
+     Chief Executive and Director
+     gbnewby@pglaf.org
+
+Section 4.  Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg
+Literary Archive Foundation
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide
+spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of
+increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be
+freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest
+array of equipment including outdated equipment.  Many small donations
+($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt
+status with the IRS.
+
+The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating
+charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United
+States.  Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a
+considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up
+with these requirements.  We do not solicit donations in locations
+where we have not received written confirmation of compliance.  To
+SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any
+particular state visit http://pglaf.org
+
+While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we
+have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition
+against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who
+approach us with offers to donate.
+
+International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make
+any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from
+outside the United States.  U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff.
+
+Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation
+methods and addresses.  Donations are accepted in a number of other
+ways including checks, online payments and credit card
+donations.  To donate, please visit: http://pglaf.org/donate
+
+
+Section 5.  General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic
+works.
+
+Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm
+concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared
+with anyone.  For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project
+Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support.
+
+Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed
+editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S.
+unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we do not necessarily
+keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.
+
+Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility:
+
+     http://www.gutenberg.org
+
+This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm,
+including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary
+Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to
+subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks.
+
+*** END: FULL LICENSE ***
+