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?'