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Praed’s charade—
My first was creeping on his way
Through the mists of a dull October day,
When a minstrel came to its muddy bed,
With a harp on his shoulder, a wreath on his head;
“And how shall I reach,” the poor boy cried,
“To the courts and the cloisters on t’other side?”
Old Euclid came, and he frown’d a frown,
And he dash’d the harp and the garland down;
Then he led the bard, with a stately march,
O’er my second’s long and cellar’d arch;—
“And see,” said the sage, “how every ass
Over the sacred stream must pass!”
The youth was mournful, the youth was mute,
He sigh’d for his laurel, he sobb’d for his lute;—
The youth took comfort, the youth took snuff,
And follow’d the lead of that teacher gruff;
And he sits, ever since, in my whole’s kind lap,
In a silken gown and a trencher cap.
is solved by Cambridge.
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