When daylight must throw a new light on his frame,
When his stomach is sick, and his liver is burning—
His eyes, shot with blood, and his brow in a flame!
William Maginn.
I saw up the steps, when the morning was shining,
The undergrads crowding so hopefully on;
I came when the sun o’er those steps was declining,
There the Senate-House was, but the students had gone.
Oh! what was the fate of the morning’s fair promise,