"The President is a man of most imperial presence; his figure has great dignity, and his head is grand in form and expression. But to me he looks the governor, the foreign minister and the President, more than the orator or the poet.
"After a prayer from the Chaplain, we listened to an eloquent oration from the class orator, Mr. Tiffany, of Baltimore and to a very elegant and witty poem from the class poet Mr. Clarke, of Boston. The 'Fair Harvard' having been sung by the class, all adjourned to the College green, where such as were so disposed danced to the music of a fine band. From the green we repaired to Harvard Hall, where an excellent collation was served, succeeded by dancing. From the hall the students of 1848 marched and cheered successively every College building, then formed a circle round a magnificent elm, whose trunk was beautifully garlanded will flowers, and, with hands joined in a peculiar manner, sung 'Auld Lang Syne.' The scene was in the highest degree touching and impressive, so much of the beauty and glory of life was there, so much of the energy, enthusiasm, and proud unbroken strength of manhood. With throbbing hearts and glowing lips, linked for a few moments with strong, fraternal grasps, they stood, with one deep, common feeling, thrilling like one pulse through all. An involuntary prayer sprang to my lips, that they might ever prove true to Alma Mater, to one another, to their country, and to Heaven.
"As the singing ceased, the students began running swiftly around the tree, and at the cry, 'Harvard!' a second circle was formed by the other students, which gave a tumultuous excitement to the scene. It broke up at last with a perfect storm of cheers, and a hasty division among the class of the garland which encircled the elm, each taking a flower in remembrance of the day."—Greenwood Leaves, Ed. 3d, 1851, pp. 350, 351.
In the poem which was read before the class of 1851, by William C. Bradley, the comparisons of those about to graduate with the youth who is attaining to his majority, and with the traveller who has stopped a little for rest and refreshment, are so genial and suggestive, that their insertion in this connection will not be deemed out of place.
"'T is a good custom, long maintained,
When the young heir has manhood gained,
To solemnize the welcome date,
Accession to the man's estate,
With open house and rousing game,
And friends to wish him joy and fame:
So Harvard, following thus the ways
Of careful sires of older days,
Directs her children till they grow
The strength of ripened years to know,
And bids their friends and kindred, then,
To come and hail her striplings—men.
"And as, about the table set,
Or on the shady grass-plat met,
They give the youngster leave to speak
Of vacant sport, and boyish freak,
So now would we (such tales have power
At noon-tide to abridge the hour)
Turn to the past, and mourn or praise
The joys and pains of boyhood's days.
"Like travellers with their hearts intent
Upon a distant journey bent,
We rest upon the earliest stage
Of life's laborious pilgrimage;
But like the band of pilgrims gay
(Whom Chaucer sings) at close of day,
That turned with mirth, and cheerful din,
To pass their evening at the inn,
Hot from the ride and dusty, we,
But yet untired and stout and free,
And like the travellers by the door,
Sit down and talk the journey o'er."
As a specimen of the character of the Ode which is always sung on Class Day to the tune "Fair Harvard,"—which is the name by which the melody "Believe me, if all those endearing young charms" has been adopted at Cambridge,—that which was written by Joshua Danforth Robinson for the class of 1851 is here inserted.
"The days of thy tenderly nurture are done,
We call for the lance and the shield;
There's a battle to fight and a crown to be won,
And onward we press to the field!
But yet, Alma Mater, before we depart,
Shall the song of our farewell be sung,
And the grasp of the hand shall express for the heart
Emotions too deep for the tongue.
"This group of thy sons, Alma Mater, no more
May gladden thine ear with their song,
For soon we shall stand upon Time's crowded shore,
And mix in humanity's throng.
O, glad be the voices that ring through thy halls
When the echo of ours shall have flown,
And the footsteps that sound when no longer thy walls
Shall answer the tread of our own!