THE OXFORD AND CAMBRIDGE BOAT-RACE.

Great ZEUS! was ever such a race since 1829,

When WORDSWORTH, SELWYN, MERIVALE began the mighty line,

First of the stalwart heroes who matched their straining thews,

And on great Thames's tide have fought the battle of the Blues?

Who writes of pampered softness? Confusion on his pen:

Still is there pluck in England, and still her sons are Men.

And still the lads go gaily forth in snow, or wind, or rain,

With hearts elate to row the race, and spurt, and spurt again.

A health to you, brave AMPTHILL; the cheering echoes far;

For FLEICHER and the NICKALLS' lads—nobile fratrum par.

A shout goes up for WILKINSON, the stalwart and the strong,

For REGGIE ROWE, and dauntless KENT, who kept the stroke so long.

For POOLE, the tidy bowman, and HEYWOOD-LONSDALE too;

Thrice thirty cheers for all of them, that gallant Oxford Crew.

Nor,—though the years speed onward, and others wield the oar,

Though others race and win or lose where we have raced before;

Though others, while we watch the sport, should play as we have played,

And scorn us prosy greybeards—shall ELIN's glory fade?

NOBLE, and LORD, and FRANCKLYN, they each shall have their cheer,

And BRADDON, small, but quick of eye, who craftily did steer,

And ROWLATT, and FOGG-ELLIOTT, and LANDALE, of the Hall,

And FISON, sturdy Corpus man—we cheer and praise them all.

Punch loves all sturdy men and true, by whom great deeds are done,

And toasts and cheers with all his might the Crews of '91.