And drain the aroma’d eve, and spend the sun,
Ere, in laborious health, the crews come back.
II.
THE OLD DIAL OF CORPUS.
Warden of hours and ages, here I dwell,
Who saw young Keble pass, with sighing shook
For good unborn; and, towards a willow nook,
Pole, princely in the senate and the cell;
And doubting the near boom of Osney bell,