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.