DANTE : his Times and his Work. By A. J. BUTLER. A Popular Treatise dealing with the Great Poet. Crown 8vo, cloth, price y. 6d. net. SEERS AND SINGERS: a Study of Five English Poets (BROWNING, TENNYSON, WORDSWORTH, MATTHEW ARNOLD, and Mrs. BROWNING). By ARTHUR D. INNES, M.A. Cloth antique extra, gilt top, 5^. A CENTURY OF FRENCH VERSE. By W. J. ROBERTSON. Being a Series of Translations from the French Poets since the Revolution, with Biographical Notices and Appreciations. Small 4to, cloth, gilt top, 6s. net. VERSE TRANSLATIONS FROM GREEK AND LATIN POETS. By ARTHUR D. INNES, M.A. Large post 8vo, buckram, gilt top, 5 s. net. LONDON: A. D. INNES AND CO., 31 & 32 BEDFORD STREET, STRAND. HORACE AT CAMBRIDGE BY THE SAME AUTHOR WITH DOUBLE PIPE ' ' Among pleasant poems of to-day let not one forget to name Mr. Owen Seaman's clever and melodious volume, 'With Double Pipe.' Mr. Seaman pipes through either mask, the serious and the smiling, and pipes well ! " MR. ANDREW LANG, in Longmans' Magazine. ' ' Mr. Seaman is at his best when he has his humorous ' stop ' in use, but he is always clever and at home with the literary instrument which he wields. . . . We hope to hear of Mr. Seaman again." Spectator, ' ' This little book of verses needs no introduction to any one acquainted with Mr. Seaman's previous work in the Cambridge Review. . . . Both styles are good, but we think the ' Tibia Sinistra ' shows Mr. Seaman at his best. 1 An Introduction to a Classical Theme 'is ... delight- fully fresh . . . From the ' Tibia Dextera ' Mr. Seaman also draws true music. ' Sea Moods ' is a clever piece of composition." Cambridge Review. OXFORD: B. H. BLACKWELL, BROAD STREET. LONDON : SIMPKIN, MARSHALL & Co. HORACE AT CAMBRIDGE BY OWEN SEAMAN AUTHOR OF 'WITH DOUBLE PIPE,' ETC. LONDON A. D. INNES AND CO. BEDFORD STREET 1895 [All rights reserved] RICHARD CLAY & SONS, LIMITED, LONDON & BUNGAY. TO THE NAMESAKE OF MY TITLE MY DEAR FRIEND foorace C flDonro OF THE LOCAL GOVERNMENT BOARD IN MEMORY OF OLD DAYS AT CLARE 1.574165 PREFACE THE series that is here published in col- lected form began to appear in the Granta in October 1893. I mention the date of its commencement, that I may not be suspected of having originally taken my idea not of course a very new one from the late Horatian boom of 1894. At the same time, I wish to cast no manner of reflexion upon the promoters of that revival. It will be seen that I do not pretend in these verses to offer any close parallel to the Latin ; in many cases some sort of analogy is to be traced throughout an ode ; here and there I have done little beyond following the motive suggested by an opening line. With one or two exceptions these imitations of Horace are drawn from Cambridge scenes or associations ; so too with the other verses Preface that complete this small volume. I hope that I shall not offend the intelligence of either present or past members of the Uni- versity if I think it necessary to give an occasional foot-note for the enlightenment of those remotely future generations to whom I look for the exhaustion of this edition. I have to thank the courtesy of the Editor of the Granta for leave to publish all that is here presented. I have made a few emendations. OWEN SEAMAN. Savile Club, March 1895. CONTENTS PAGE I. OF THE PERFECT UNDERGRADUATE 3 II. OF THOSE THAT GO DOWN TO THE RIVER ... ... ... ... 6 III. OF CHANGING SEASONS ... ... II IV. OF PINDAR AND OTHER SPORTING TOUTS 15 V. OF SAUL AMONG THE PROPHETS ... 21 VI. OF A TUTORIAL NIGHT-OFF 2J VII. OF RIVERSIDE CHARGERS 3! VIII. OF COUNSEL TO COXSWAINS ... 36 IX. OF A REFORMED SPORTSMAN ... 40 X. OF THE BATTLE OF THE FIFTH ... 42 XI. OF MIDDLE-AGE IN MOTLEY 45 XII. OF THE TRAVAIL OF A MAKER OF IAMBICS ... ... ... ... 48 XIII. OF EVERGREEN SIRENS ... ... 51 Contents PAGE XIV. OF NAVAL ADVENTURE 53 XV. OF FATUOUS BLOODS 56 XVI. OF THE NEW SCHOOL OF LETTERS ... 60 XVII. OF MODERATE AMBITION ... ... 63 XVIII. OF MAKING HAY IN SUNSHINE ... 65 XIX. OF THE NECESSITY OF GOING DOWN 68 xx. OF THE AUTHOR'S TENDENCY TO BECOME A BIRD ... ... ... 72 THE DIRGE OF THE AMATEUR MAENAD 76 OXFORD V. CAMBRIDGE LADIES ... 85 CAMBRIDGE RE-VISITED. I 89 CAMBRIDGE RE-VISITED. II 95 HORACE AT CAMBRIDGE I OF THE PERFECT UNDERGRADUATE Integer vitae THE man that never told a lie, Or cut a College Chapel, That lives within his Tutor's eye And is, in fact, its apple ; Whether by fabled heights of Gog Or Granta's mazy winding Upon his customary jog He goes serenely grinding ; He little needs (so few his fears, So equable his liver) To join the Arquebusiliers Or even read The Quiver. 3 Horace at Cambridge For once he chanced to meet a mad Bull-pup its legs were bandy ; It scooted from him though he had No gun or weapon handy. Nor ever monster like to this Was versed in sporting matters, Or issued forth from Callaby's To romp among the ratters ; And yet it fled with loud alarm, While he in meditation Pursued his thoughts upon the charm Of Conic Osculation. Place him on ocean's sandy dunes, Or bunkers of Sahara, Or where the air is sick with tunes By Kellie and De Lara, Plunge him in any haunt of sin Roulette or water-polo ; 4 Integer vitae Propriety doth hedge him in, He simply whispers Nolo. The button-hole, the tandem-team, He counts alike as folly ; Polygonometry's his theme, I think he calls it " Polly." Her angular and winning ways He hymns like any suitor ; And one of these fine open days Intends to be a Tutor. II OF THOSE THAT GO DOWN TO THE RIVER Pastor cum traheret per freta navibus WHERE Boating Captains on their beat Go shepherding the tortuous fleet Of tubs along the river's reedy hollows, I marked the Genius who addressed A Freshman with a beefy chest ; The views of Camus were expressed Somewhat as follows. " It first behoves you to undo Of all your buttons just the two Topmost, and chance the weather being breezy ; Then, swinging stiffly from the hip, Cause your prehensile heels to grip The stretcher ; at the signal, nip Great Heavens ! Easy ! 6 Pastor cum traheret Where were we ? Yes. There is a rule Whereby the oarsman, though a fool, May guarantee the boat against inversion ; Observe your blade ; the thing is bent Obliquely to the element ; Square it at once, and so prevent Needless immersion. Again ; deposit, if you please, Your stomach well between your knees, Aim broadly at the bottom of the vessel ; Swing early, often, long and late ; This is the doctrine up to date, With which the most immaculate Fresher must wrestle. Reck nothing though the process pain Your blistered hide and make you fain To be a scaly merman with a sea-tail ; 7 Horace at Cambridge A time may yet arrive when you Will be as hardened as a Blue, And have a soul superior to Matters of detail. That future waits you far and dim, And in the awful interim You have to pass a pretty hot probation ; ' Much is to learn, much to forget,' And now and then you'll feel regret, And never, never, fail to sweat With perspiration. Full often, rowing like an ox, On you the curses of your cox, Falling like blasts of some Tyrrhenian trumpet, Will rend the horror-stricken air With language fit to curl the hair That clusters nicely round the fair Crest of your crumpet. 8 Pastor cum traheret Then will you at your rigid thwart Restrain the apposite retort And like the parrot merely think profanely, The while your heavy head you wag Panting as pants the hunted stag, And wear your ' Pontius ' to a rag, Sliding inanely. Perchance you will mislay your oar, When quickening to forty-four, And learn a little jargon from your skipper ; Or get an unexpected spank Straight in the centre of your flank From some inordinately rank Holiday-tripper. Those coaches you shall come to know, That trot with caution to and fro And wish their knowledge of the chase were larger ; 9 Horace at Cambridge Your valour shall divert the way Of Nestor-Jones's l blinkered grey, And draw a compliment from J. B. 2 on his charger. Eventually you will land Triumphant after trials, and Talk frankly like a father from the saddle You have the makings of a tar, And should, with fortune, travel far ; Meanwhile you might get forward. Are You ready ? Paddle ! " 1 Mr. Trevor Jones, popular and perpetual coach of Trinity Hall. 2 Mr. J. B. Close, President of the C.U.B.C., 1894-5. IO Ill OF CHANGING SEASONS Diffugere nives WINTER is gone with frost and rime (Perhaps the statement's previous, For weather in this fancy clime Is nothing if not devious) ; And now the buds are coming out, And birds begin their flutings, And freshmen freely look about To pick their vernal suitings. Winter is gone (I've mentioned that), And crocuses are yellow, The grassy plot invites the cat, And eke the college Fellow ; II Horace at Cambridge And now the annual relay Of Dowagers and Graces Is tripping lightly on its way To view the Lenten races. And now the Crew is living down Its taste for cheese and chutney, And presently will treat the town To episodes at Putney ; And nightly we shall read reports About the play of breezes, That whistle round its airy shorts And Zephyr-like chemises. And now, to pass to platitudes, I put it to the printer That Spring's a season which obtrudes Upon the heels of Winter ; That Summer does the same to Spring, And similarly Autumn ; 12 Diffugere nives For so the early poets sing (Lord only knows who taught 'em). The Seasons' linked dance of joy No earthly hand may sever, But we, when we go down, my boy, Why, we go down for ever ; For save we join the Blessed Dons By process of translation, We must abide by Mr. Sw*n's Or B*lstr*de's valuation. It boots us nothing, Vere de Vere, Whether our race's founder Had all the makings of a Peer, Or played the common bounder ; It matters not, my noble Sir, When once our doom is dated, Whether we kept the rules, or were Invariably gated. 13 Horace at Cambridge Your taste for bloods, your pretty sense Of humour Transatlantic, Your pensive air, your eloquence, That drove the Union frantic, Avail you not ; another's name Will soon adorn your portal ; All passes but the constant flame Of gyps and they're immortal. Time marks our passage on the way To Charon's bulging wherry, Not Wordsworth could arrange to stay, Nor even Muttlebury ; And yet the former's rustic Muse Was ripe for We are Seven ; The latter, if they're short of Blues, Is bound to go to Heaven. IV OF PINDAR AND OTHER SPORTING TOUTS Pindarum quisquis studet aemulari THE minor prophet who will dare To emulate The Truthful Star, 'E very often dunno where 'E are. Bounding along as torrents bound, A babe with nobody to mind him, At any match on any ground You find him. A horoscope in either eye, He'll fix your dial to a minute ; Ezekiel and Malachi Aren't in it. 15 Horace at Cambridge A month ago he stoutly swore Our chances were but sickly queer With what he called the " leather " or The " sphere." And now he drinks the bitter cup, Because appearances deceive, And people may have something up Their sleeve. Nevertheless beside the boats Presumably upon the scent The chiel's " at Putney " takin' notes " To"prent." As harmless as a patent bomb, Or bantam egg that's freshly laid, He barely knows the handle from The blade. 16 Pindarum quisquis studet Instead of urging us to bid The odds upon the Oxford eight, He'd better do as Pindar did And wait ; Though even Pindar felt the germ Of literary competition, And bustled for the Early Worm Edition ; Starting a bit before to ring The usual ancestral chime, And that was how he scanned the thing In time. Let others lift a lordly strain, And vow with high-falutin' boast To have the dauntless Fry l again On toast ; 1 Captain of the Oxford Association team of 1894, strong favourites, but defeated by three goals to one. 17 c Horace at Cambridge I only pray that on the day We hold our own by flood and field, 1 When the cerulean array Is peeled. To that effect it's not amiss To set my humble quill to squeak, And pledge our luck from now to this Day week. I have a port, a fruity port, It ill becomes my pen to puff, But anyhow it's not the sort Of stuff The student takes to wash his food Not twenty miles from Temple Bar, But long in wood when Consols stood At par. 1 Written before the Sports and Boat Race of 1894. 18 Pindarum quisquis studet Therewith empurpled I shall call In strident tones upon the crew, Straining my baritone till all Is blue. And should we win I'll do my best, If still my throat is audiendum, To sound a bumper ode Nunc est Bibendum ! You, Sir, will occupy a stand, Or take your dejeuner at large Upon the cheerful four-in-hand Or barge ; 7 choose the many-peopled bank, With that most charming of abortions, Dog of the crescent legs and lank Proportions ; 19 Horace at Cambridge There, little dachshund, you shall strike Beholders with your black and tan, Sporting the Cambridge colours like A man. 20 V OF SAUL AMONG THE PROPHETS Bacchum in remotis carmina rupibus Vidi docentem I SAW old Dubbins it's the solemn verity In some obscure provincial town (the fact Will pass for racy fiction with posterity) Intoning with considerable tact, And not the faintest sign of insincerity, The service for the day ; the pews were packed With most devoted nymphs in killing bonnets, A theme I've often thought would do for sonnets. 21 Horace at Cambridge My mind recalled the last occasion when Those fluty tones had fallen on my ears ; Supported by a brace of boating men Dubbins had risen (incoherent cheers), And starting by request with " Do ye ken ? " Tailed off into " The British Grena- diers." I feel at times a kind of moral twist In looking through the ordination list ! There is a period in woman's growth Which I will designate the Curate Age; It falls between and has a touch of both The Military Era and the Stage ; Then with the tightest-laced (and nothing loth) The blooming young divine becomes the rage ; 22 Bacchum in remotis Their adulation takes the form of mittens, Or carpet-slippers, or superfluous kittens. Perchance there is a rival, one of those Extension Lecturers from Cambridge College ; Who " illustrates " immortal verse and prose, Of which he has a rather fluent knowledge ; They make him presents of the rathe primrose, A practice which the Church would fain abolidge ; (I cull the form from Mrs. Gamp's anthology, And tender to the same my frank apology.) In matters of the heart, as I am told, Woman is thermometrically tidal, Now secular and warm, now saintly cold, A state of things that's simply suicidal ; 23 Horace at Cambridge i She'll oscillate like Israel of old Exchanging Moses for a Moulton idol ; The joke is not my own, I wish it were ; I also wish I were the Lecturer ! l But whither, Muses, are ye footling on ? We must return to trace our wandering sheep, Lest the connexion of the tale be gone As happened with the muttons of Bo- Peep, Or as the mild meandering of a Don Will lap a lecture-room in balmy sleep ; I don't know any medium that's neater For circulating gas than Juan's metre. 1 Mr. R. G. Moulton, now Professor of Literature at Chicago University. 24 Bacchum in remotis So to return to Dubbins, as we knew him, Then, when the casual oat was being sown ; He didn't care what Plautus calls a duim For all the annotations of Perowne ; So open-minded that they trickled through him, So open-handed too that I have known The double-headed bull-dog passing by Irregularly wink the other eye. He never rowed, because his skin was porous And sensitive in parts to any scar ; His voice was fairly useful in a chorus ; His wit was dry and suited to the bar ; Reckless at Pool he shed his lives before us, And seldom missed his due, the hero's star ; In battle he was good to break a head ; In peace he wore his toga to a thread. 25 Horace at Cambridge I take it, there's a difference between This picture, see, and that you know the phrase ? Think what he is, I say, and what he's been ; (Excuse my mixing one of Kipling's lays With Hamlet quoting Shakespeare to the Queen ;) I never knew in all my palmy days A nicer connoisseur of flowing bowls ; And now he's got a sinecure of souls ! 26 VI OF A TUTORIAL NIGHT-OFF Septimi, Gades aditure mecum MY fellow-Fellow, have you noted How Cantabridge that scorns our yoke Has very pleasantly promoted A kind of joke ? It seems the road from here to Hades Is opened up, and now we are To have like manumitted ladies, Our ivanderjahr ! Septimius, if we were single, With liberty to join the dance, How both the ears of us would tingle At such a chance ! 27 Horace at Cambridge Alack ! the thing is not a question Of trium liberorum jus ; And so this excellent suggestion Won't do for us. But stay ! we two at least might run to A wanderaoofc upon the jaunt ; For choice of ground I know of none to Surpass the haunt Where once we worshipped Nelly Farren, And Leslie made the midriff ache, When life not yet was wholly barren Of ale and cake. Or say the Empire ? I've enjoyed the Empire as much as any place ; Only, dear fellow, we'll avoid the Eve of the race ! For then, like armies of Sennacherib, The Undergrad is all abroad ; 28 Septimi, Gades aditure And Chucker-outs are keen to crack a rib Or spinal cord. Or thither we might haply muster, Where Temples of the Muse divine Are thick as purple grapes that cluster Upon the vine ; Where Mercury from off a mountain New-lit and naked as the day Adorns my Lord of Shaftesbury's fountain, Which doesn't play. Beloved angle ! where the traffic Of Coventry and Regent Streets Makes music rather more seraphic Than parrakeets ; Where Pav' and Cri' and Trocadero In blessed rivalry conspire To give us joy ; (se non e vero, Then I'm a liar !) 29 Horace at Cambridge For there the drinks are long and cooling Like winter nights about the Pole ; Or, if the taste for shorts is ruling, Upon my soul I know a bar where men may batten On mint as green as Erin's isle, Or cocktails that would make Manhattan Forget to smile ! In such a scene more sweet than honey Even Hymettically sealed, We'll fume the best cigar that money Can hope to yield ; " The mild Havannah ! " (as they do in Old Calverley's immortal line), And weep into its ash the ruin Of days lang syne ! VII OF RIVERSIDE CHARGERS Ille et nefasto te posuit die UPON a god-forsaken day, Black-lettered, fever-smitten, The jobber marked you with his brand To be the butt of Barnwell and The mockery of Ditton. Hack of the W. S. H., 1 My Warranted Sound Hunter, Whose state is feebly comatose, Whose sense of humour Heaven knows It couldn't well be blunter. 1 Cabalistic sign of the riverside stable for coaches, horses" y. 6d. per W(eek) S(ent) H(ome)." 31 Horace at Cambridge That man, I say, had little heart Or else a callous liver, Who in your beauty's aftermath Consigned you to the towing-path, Your rider to the river. Fate's irony so long has been A mark for observation, That three examples here will do, I might have managed it with two By way of illustration. Safe home from hacking nigger-men That never had a rag on, His foot the gallant soldier sets Upon his native soil, and gets Run over by a waggon. Your Anarchist who fears the Force (No other fears afflict him), 32 Ille et nefasto Quite inadvertently is blown To bits and figures as his own One solitary victim. The hardy missioner who makes A point of being chary Of brutal Anthropophagi Is ultimately eaten by A common cassowary. He only never dies that has A Life Insurance ticket : It is, as history avers, The unexpected that occurs : (The same applies to cricket). To take my case : when you, my steed, (I sat you like a feather,) Through utter lassitude of mind Mistook the purpose of the grind, And down we went together ; 33 D Horace at Cambridge How nearly then had not the stream Been singularly scanty You came to visiting the Styx, And trying on your fancy tricks Along with Rosinante, Or those primeval quadrupeds, New-roused from realms of Morpheus, The famous prehistoric breed, Enchanted by a second Reed, A later quill than Orpheus' ! How nearly I myself had joined The ranks of shady reges Who used to patronise the Row (I mean Bellerophon and Co.) In Argos apt at gee-gees ! How nearly heard them pulverise In pious Greek Te Deums 34 Ille et nefasto The digging-man that comes from King's, Unearthing all their earthen things, And stuffs 'em in Museums ! * 1 With apologies and hearty congratulations to my honoured friend Dr. Waldstein, back at this time from fresh finds in Argive fields. 35 VIII OF COUNSEL TO COXSWAINS Rectius vives, Licini, neqiie altum Semper urgendo ONE'S better course is, as a rule, To take the golden mean for motto ; Therefore, my cherished coxswain, you'll Try not to Call like a penny steamer at Each shore with stolid alternation, Rousing antiphonies of flat Damnation ; Nor yet conversely sin a sin, Dull as the after-dinner riddle, And cleave the current fairly in The middle. 36 Rectius vives, Licini Far sooner would I have you seek Barely to graze the bank at Grassy ; As when a golfer with his cleek Or brassy, Taking a deal of pains about His attitude, and saying " This is A rather pretty thing," lets out And misses. Follow not up the zigzag foe, As coursing hounds that hunt the rabbit ; Speaking from memory I know No habit More purely fatuous. I contend, (And so would any crossing-sweeper) The shorter route is in the end The cheaper. 37 Horace at Cambridge Adopt the happy medium, (Compare the Sludge of Robert Browning ;) Don't tell your men their time has come For drowning ; Nor do the other thing and let Their feather up too high ; it knocks your Best crew to pieces when they get Too cocksure. Remember there are things that sear The soul with sore internal smarting ; E. g. to cross your steering-gear At starting ; Or imitate the helmsman who, Stop-watch in hand, acutely reckoned The pealing of the cannon to A second ; Then dropped it, and himself was shied Over the rudder like a rocket, 38 Rectius vives, Licini Having secured the bung inside His pocket. Preserve your priceless head, of all Your other parts the real chef d'ceuvre ; Neglect of this original Manoeuvre Ruined our late king, Charles the First ; Accordingly through floods and blizzards Keep it, and bid your fellows burst Their gizzards Round serried Ditton's sinuous bay, Till up the Reach with dancing riggers They feel the wash and pound away Like niggers ; Then, even as the crafty cub Closes upon his evening mutton, Swiftly apply your indiarub- ber button. 39 IX OF A REFORMED SPORTSMAN Lydia, die, per omnes. . . . O TUTOR, tell me why it is that thou From purely paltry motives of exam Art eager thus to suffocate with cram Juggins, that like a patient ox, through all These many seasons partial to the plough, Now cheweth caviare for the General ? Why wheeleth he no more as once he wheeled At Polo with his Peers ? Nor standeth now upon Newmarket Heath, His lonely last gold bit between his teeth, Ready to lay it on some galled jade, As frequently he laid Against the field In other years ? Why shunneth he the crystal Cam, and why 40 Lydia, die, per omnes At Fenner's faileth he to lubricate His lusty limbs, as when of late He waxed exceeding proud To know that none with smarter hand or eye Could heave the hammer well among the crowd ? Why at the sticks doth he no longer soar, Barking at every flight his livid shin, Or at the distance-jump take in A cubit's length or more ? Why should he skulk, as runs the ancient rune How that a certain Proctor, 1 who defied The wary wielders of the wooden spoon, Played in a privy cupboard hide-and-seek, For fear his bib, no paler than his cheek, Should be the death of him in Barnwell's. tide ? 1 Nameless, of St. John's College. The famous victory was won in 1882. 41 X OF THE BATTLE OF THE FIFTH O saepe mecum tempus in ultimum O THOU with whom so oft at 12.15, I've spoiled the porter's beauty-sleep (or later), Thrice welcome, welcome back, whitewashed and clean, To Alma Mater ! Sole witness of my break of forty-nine ! How well we made the drowsy hours to Jig> All drenched with frequent sodas at the sign Of the Blue Pig ! With thee I shared the Fifth, that final rag, And lost ingloriously my tattered gown, 42 O saepe mecum tempus What time my forehead bit a paving-flag In Sturton Town. Me blessed Mercury, shaped like a hansom, Bore through a sultry atmosphere of brick ; For thee, O thee, another kind of ransom Was waiting, Dick ! Chased into Andrew Street's absorbing gutter, Thou by the Proctor's pack wast fairly baited, Haled to that hardy sportsman on a shutter And rusticated. So welcome back from rural contemplation ! And here's a health to those that bring thee back ! The Dons ! we'll pour a Lethe of libations In Miller's sack ! 43 Horace at Cambridge Pass round the loving cup ! a long, strong pull! Unguents are off and wreaths are run to seed ; Instead about our lips shall curl the full And fragrant weed. What choice for dissipation ? Dick, old man, At this auspicious hour 'tis thine to- choose ; Loo ? then to-night we'll linger longer than At former Loos ! 44 XI OF MIDDLE-AGE IN MOTLEY Intermissa, Venus, diu YOUR card to hand the other day, In terms concise but gracious, The intermitted song, you say, Is due from your Horatius ; spare me, please ; Old Time of late Has played the filibuster ; 1 feel as one whose glass of fate Has shed another lustre. Though age and anguish, I'll allow, Have not impaired my dinner, The locks upon my ardent brow Perceptibly grow thinner ; 45 Horace at Cambridge And there's a younger, smarter race All blowin' and a-growin' Should ply the pen and push the pace To keep the type a-flowin'. Yet was there one of riper age Who bore from Cambridge portals The sacred flame of persiflage To London's palsied mortals ; Full well they know, who know the Ropes, His form of ample tether, Prometheus of a hundred tropes Bound in Morocco leather. 1 A fallen Don, a rising Star, I fancy how he faces Those nymphs with their conducting Carr, And puts 'em through their paces. I see him prompt, with lips aghast, That somersaulting fairy, 1 Mr. Adrian Ross will perhaps kindly pardon these allusions. 46 Intermissa, Venus ; diu Letitia, as she gives his last Carmen Peculiare. Perchance himself he beats the floor In Old Aunt-Salian fashion, Till half the supers in the corps Go Bang with lyric passion ; Yes, Sir, his genius is such That you should interview it, And find by what inspired touch He manages to do it. Strange effort of the lecture-desk ! That turns a College Fellow Into a Rossius of burlesque When getting nicely mellow ; Exceptions prove the rule, no doubt, Of rhymes with age abating ; I haven't time to work it out, Because the printer's waiting. 47 XII OF THE TRAVAIL OF A MAKER OF IAMBICS O matre ptilchra filia pulchrior MORE than mother to me, gentle incubator, O my Coach, (although I hate to ask it) Kindly shove my last iambics in the grate or Paper-basket. When I built 'em, how my eye in frenzy roaming Raked the Gradus and the English- Greek ! Like my Tutor's when I pass him in the gloaming, Pipe in cheek. Briny tears I spilt upon the blameless blotter, Used the oaths that men of wrath employ, 48 O matre pulchra Otherwise than when a Dutchman swears in Rotter- dam for joy. Nascittir, nonfit, is stated of the Poet, People have it in their protoplasms ; Personally when I try to scan, I know it Gives me spasms ! I have timed a racing eight and seen the hairy Tar with twenty barges block the way ; Heard on Monday nights the bells of Great St. Mary Making hay ; Blindly I have braved a Don's expostulations, Going to the length of saying " Pooh ! " And I know of language meet for most occasions ; Yes, I do ! 49 E Horace at Cambridge Wrath is my redeeming trait ; I have a hunger For compelling all my enemies to rot ; But my feelings for the first iambic-monger Beat the lot ! Woe to wooers of the Muse ! she's too erratic ; Put the case concisely dest une folle ! I shall drop her and (to speak the homely Attic) Take a Poll. Many since Atrides' day have filtered through the Poll degree (or none at all) unaided ; And I think I may without presumption do the Same as they did. So we sever, O my Coach. I leave the chase of Giddy geese and Honour's airy scent, By the " Special exit meant for use in case of Accident." 50 XIII OF EVERGREEN SIRENS Quis multa gracilis te puer in rosa f WHAT slender stripling in his primal year, His lip bedewed with " Tricholina," Amid your flower-pots with alluring leer Woos you, Georgina ? Across the counter leans his blazered arms, And, plying you with laboured sallies Of amorous wit, around your waning charms Heavily dallies ? Who bids you bind your bun, I want to know, As once, my ever-verdant mignon, For my sweet sake some thirty years ago You bound your chignon, Simply mendacious in its artful dye, All golden as the daffodilly Si Horace at Cambridge To which you pinned my swelling chest, while I Looked really silly ? Alas ! poor boy, he has a lot to learn Outside the Little-Go prospectus, Things that will give him quite a nasty turn In Love's Delectus; Who fancies, never having known a doubt, Your hair is naturally yellow ; Nor dreams you ever cared a bit about Another fellow. For me, of course, I've had my little fling, And been lovesick on many an ocean, And cease to feel about this kind of thing The least emotion. And yet a touch of nature marks me kin To him, that budding young apprentice ; Besides, it's possibly my son that's in Loco parentis. 52 XIV OF NAVAL ADVENTURE Sic te, diva potens Cypri So may the Cambridge favours of their knights Eight several Venuses inform with grace ; So may my Julia's brethren, shining lights, Have sense enough to drive me to the race ; So may we win the fatal toss and take Whichever side one never knows is best ; So may the wind blow nicely in our wake, And catch the other coxswain in the chest. O Crew ! please to land to the good at the goal; My fortune deserves a reviver ; So save and increase the one-half of my sole And exceptional fiver ! 53 Horace at Cambridge Of triple girth and most robustious ease His waistcoat was who first essayed to pop His tubby Ark upon the turbid seas Noe, and braved the headlong Aethiop That wrestled darkly with the rising tide, And cursed aloud the race of Shem and Ham. And pretty bold was he who first, dry-eyed, Furrowed the swart bacilli of the Cam. O vainly has Providence fettered its flow, And Man shot the drains of the town in, If people will paddle on stuff that is no Good to drink or to drown in ! Into what vetos men do rashly rush ! Witness labez of the Liberator ; Or Harcourt, and the Liquor Bill but hush ! I shun to be a pen-and-ink culpator ; 54 Sic te, diva potens Cypri With wing'd opinions through the great inane The Grand Old Daedal Expert wanders on ; And Mr. Stead, with spook upon the brain, Is very busy bursting Acheron. We mock the high gods with our Eiffels that seek To have Pelion packed upon Ossa ; Nay, worse I am told there are men who will speak Of their DEAN as ajossa ! 55 XV OF FATUOUS BLOODS Non ebur neque aureum NEITHER cup nor pewter pot Stands on mantel-piece of Mine ; Frankly, too, I haven't got Any bladed beam of pine Lashed along My chamber wall, For I never rowed at all. Never rowed or ran or did Anything that makes you warm ; Jumped or kicked or shot or slid, Or careered in any form ; But I humbly thank My God Who has fashioned Me a Blood. 56 Non ebur neque aureum People in a College boat Row till they are beastly raw, All to wear a coloured coat, All to sport a fancy straw ; Black-and-white simplicity, This is good enough for Me. Photographs are all My rage, And they make a pleasant sight ; All the beauties of the stage Dressed in something nice and light ; Though I never yet have been In My life behind the scene. And of heroes of the ring I have got a tidy set ; Suffolk Chickens on the Wing, And the Carolina Pet ; Though I never sought admission To this kind of exhibition. 57 Horace at Cambridge Then, again, about degrees I have passed the Little-Go ; For the rest I take My ease ; Cannot really, don't you know, Chew the literary cud When I chance to be a Blood. Others struggle and perspire, We do nothing but exist ; Tantalus with vain desire Tackled higher flights and missed ; Now he's posted in the flood, Thirsting to become a Blood. Day is on the heels of day, And the waxing moon '11 wane ; June comes tripping after May, And they go the round again ; Burst yourselves, you'll never be Anything but bourgeoisie. 58 Non ebur neque aureum Now I come to look at My Logic, I could wish it better ; But the fact is this, that I Copied Horace to the letter ; He has got a pretty wit, And I thought I'd follow it. But the argument is thus (Since I'm getting rather mixed) That between the rest and Us There's a gulf securely fixed : Every tinker to his trade ; Bloods were born and never made. Even Orcus, under earth, Won't be altogether blind To the notion of our worth, And I fancy we shall find Layers of infernal mud Drained expressly for the Blood. 59 XVI OF THE NEW SCHOOL OF LETTERS Odi profanum vulgus et arceo I HATE your vulgar modern breeds, New Woman, prig and poetaster, \Q\M fin-de-race that never reads A page of any ancient Master. Where are they now, those brave and stout World-old and weather-beaten skippers ? Their wassail-bowl is going out ; Absinthe's the thing for little nippers. Maybe one writer's little mess Is more suggestive than another's ; One painter's chic a shadow less Purely preposterous than his brother's. 60 Odi projanum Precocity, that knows no law, Binds them in boards a weary medley ; All advertising, cheek by jaw ; And the result is something deadly. Some fancies by a hanging sword, Some by a risky pen are tickled ; The appetite of these is bored, They take their garlic highly pickled. While others, sick of seasoning, And spicy literary diet, Will seldom taste the latest thing, And absolutely never buy it. Some even miss with mild regret The age of Smiles and Martin Tupper, Ere Curiosity had set Her straddling legs across the crupper. 61 Horace at Cambridge They sigh for schools of cleric bent, The tonsured head, austere, ascetic ; And loathe the love-locks redolent Of gummy Araby's cosmetic. To them the sweepings of the sink Are not Sibyllinische blatter ; An Aster by the sewer's brink Is simply that and nothing better. " Why change," say they, " our Sabine food For mullet murdered in the ditches ? Why barter modest maidenhood For rampant women's borrowed breeches?" 62 XVII OF MODERATE AMBITION Sunt quos curricula puherem Olympicum THERE are whose lives would fairly hum If they might gather gold in some Olympian curriculum To rival " Venice " ; Another lot, by fortune led, The fervid wheel, the black and red, Will break the bank or lose their head, Like good St. Denis. The merchant, timorous of whales, Vicariously woos the gales, With Argus-eye for magic sales Of cornered cotton ; While some, untutored to be poor, Pursue a claim for precious ore 63 Horace at Cambridge In regions of the Martial Boer, And find it rotten. For me the green-room's cool retreat, The shady scene, the shifting feet Of busy nymphs that nimbly beat The floor and frisk it ; But chiefly, great Augustus, 1 may I be where thy electric ray Astonishes the milky way, And takes the biscuit. Give me a music-hall career, With signed agreements for a clear Two thousand pounds or so a year To touch as salary ; Content with little, be it mine, As lyrist in the comic line, A star among the stars to shine, And " knock " the gallery. 1 Formerly Director of the Palace Theatre. 64 XVIII OF MAKING HAY IN SUNSHINE Tu ne quaesieris SEEK not, dear boy, to overstrain The intellect for this exam ; Nor gauge amiss the gastric pain That comes of undigested cram ; Nor ask the heathenish Chaldee For tips in pure theology. Far happier he who doesn't mind One little blow about the fray ; Who, if the foeman prove unkind, Gently, but firmly, runs away : Who puts his money in the slot, And comes and takes another shot. 65 F Horace at Cambridge Be wise and fill the flowing can ; Strain off the fatal pips, and wash The dust of work away with an Alleviating lemon-squash ; There's something very nice, I think, About an effervescent drink. Eschew the heated lecture-hall ; Drive by its door, and pay no heed To Cranmer on his pedestal, 1 Or holy Pearson on the Creed. Blow up the horn ; blow, while you may ; And, so to put it, pluck the day. Come, pluck the day I never knew How people set about the thing ; Come, brush aside the early dew, And have your matutinal fling ; 1 Outside the Divinity Schools. 66 Tu ne quaesieris Time wears a forelock on his brow ; You'd better take him by it now. Trust not the morrow, lest it turn Traitor and trump your cherished hope ; Youth flies I'd give a lot to learn Who first conceived that trenchant trope ;- This blessed hour my urgent rhyme Is half a week behind the time. XIX OF THE NECESSITY OF GOING DOWN Eheu! fugaces, Postitme, Postume I HINTED in my postumous, or last, Ode that the flight of years is never-ending ; I find it is a state of things that's past Serious mending ; The more I think of it, the more I feel One cannot do much better than repeat it ; The Truth is always fresh, and takes a deal Of talk to beat it. Behold, you may detect a shiny spot, Where through my hair the pericranium twinkles ; I, too, observe upon your brow a lot Of seamy wrinkles, 68 Eluu ! fugaces Signs of the crammer's art. For you and me The hour is come to join the dear departed ; To phrase it coarsely, it is time that we Already started. " There is no way but this ! " as Lord Mac- aulay's Hero remarked, and drove the "whittle" home, In one of those exceptionally raw lays Of Ancient Rome. But steady on the rein, my Muse ! sit tight ! Five desultory stanzas fairly smother One of old Flaccus ! Even as I write This makes another. All flesh eventually takes to grass, Browsing on Stygian plains, or else they row to Those blessed islands which the better class Of niggers go to. 69 Horace at Cambridge Not though you worked your eyes completely red, Thomas, and raised an astigmatic blister ; Not though you met the Dean point-blank and said She was your sister ; Not though you gave a yearly butt of rum To flush the Fellows' Combination table, Or penned a treatise lithe and long as some Atlantic cable, Could you escape to go where went the late Apostles, 1 apt to sweeten, apt to light us, Profusely punting down the desperate Pool of Cocytus. Which is to say that we must e'en go down, With dignity, of course, not cut and run it ; 1 Offspring of that literary society, founded about 1820, which at one time included Tennyson, Hallam, Milnes, and Alford among its members. 70 EJieu ! fugaces You'll find a heap of decent men in town Who've been and done it. So shall you leave your rooms, your bills, your buxom Bedder, yea, all on which the fancy dotes, Reaping no harvest save, by cursed luck, some Crop of wild oats. A better man than you, a nobler flier, The pavement of your court shall rudely stain, Playing at Heidsieck on a higher, drier, Plan of Champagne. XX OF THE AUTHOR'S TENDENCY TO BECOME A BIRD Non ^lsitata nee tenui ferar Penna IN singular and supple plumes Adapted to aerial transit Your trusty bard, Horatius, blooms Superbly and prepares to chance it Across illimitable space Where worlds beneath are looking thinnish, Where Envy cannot keep the pace And Calumny neglects the finish. Already on my turgid calf I feel the feathers fresh and fluffy ; My massive shoulder-blades are half Besmothered by a sort of puffy 72 Non usitata ' Excrescence where the wings fit on ; They tell me the effect is pretty ; And like the evanescent swan I must oblige you with a ditty, If not my first, at least my last, In this particular connexion ; And sicklied over with the cast Of pale and moribund reflexion. But think not, Granta, dear, that I, Your poor but strictly honest poet, Am in a likely way to die ! Not altogether, if I know it ! O'er the round earth and I surmise The earth is virtually spheric Where bales of British merchandise Are landed by the playful derrick ; 73 Horace at Cambridge Wherever war and whisky-stills On missionary tracks have followed ; Where Lloyd's is read, or Beecham's pills Enthusiastically swallowed ; Where lynchers regularly make Mincemeat of niggers in Ohio, Or where the Matabele break The Chartered bank at Buluwayo ; There shall the Grantas pages prove A source of high illumination ; And there my twenty odes shall move The native mind to desperation. Bound possibly in simple boards, Perhaps in rather costly vellum, I fancy how those heathen hordes Would give their very scalps to spell 'em ! 74 Non usitata Then weep me not when I am fled On pinions like a common fairy ; Besides, when all is done and said, The thing is merely temporary ; Inane it were to celebrate My vacuous urn with rosy posies ; Rather await an up-to-date Example of metempsychosis. 75 (After the ' Indian Maid's Lament ' in Endymion.) BENEATH my parasol by Camus' side I sat a-reading ; in the whole world wide There was no one to tell me what to read ; And I agreed How passing sweet it was to be so slack In the Long Vac. And as I sat, from somewhere up by Caius There came a sound of revel on the breeze, As when the maddened Maenads all are out With Bacchus and his rout : 1 Being a reminiscence of the University Extension Summer Meeting held in Cambridge in the Long Vacation of 1893. The Dirge of the Amateur Maenad And scarce the axle-boxes of my knees Had spun a furrow's length or thereabout, When round the corner Mr. Berry l shot Up with his little lot. Like to a waving field of corn they came, Matron and maid, and faces all aflame, A sight to rudely scare, if any can, A solemn honours-man ; then, O then, I say it to my shame, My thoughts were very, very far from thee, Thou " Academical Sobriety," And in a moment, lost to name and fame, I, I, a two-year-old Girtonian, Had joined the Summer Plan. Berry, beside his ivied staff of men 1 saw engirt with women, as a hen With her appealing brood ; 1 At that time Secretary of the Cambridge Extension. 77 Horace at Cambridge There was a listening air in their regard As if from drinking information hard, More really than was good ; And there I saw the Cambridge-Yankee blend, A trifle lifted up among their peers, Boasting Typhoeus-like how they " extend " Over two hemispheres. " Whence come ye, lady trippers, whence come ye, So many and so many on the spree ? Why have ye left the provinces forlorn This blessed August morn ? " " We follow Berry, Berry, on the fling A-lecturing ; Before, behind, about him still we plod, Fair or foul weather, thorough Hall or Quad ; Come hither, lady-undergrad, and greet Our wild Extension Meet." 78 The Dirge of the Amateur Maenad " Whence come ye, master trippers, whence come ye, So many and so many on the spree ? Forgetting Margate sands and Yarmouth pier, And all her bloaters sere ? " " For Culture, Culture, have we waived the sea, For Culture have exchanged the gay Marine For King's-parade ; For Culture (Mr. Berry's) have we come ; Lord ! only hear its universal hum ! So hither, lady-undergrad, and greet Our wild Extension Meet." Pencil in pouch and syllabus in hand, Hugging selected Poets of the land, Keats, Shelley, Coleridge, all but Thomas Hood And Byron (more's the pity), 79 Horace at Cambridge They caught the local colour where they could ; And members of the feminine committee To native grace an added charm would bring Of light blue ribbons not of abstinence But bearing just this sense " Enquire within on any mortal thing ! " Deserting afternoon half-tasted teas For some Staff Officer on Pericles, Treading where Dons will hardly dare to tread, Sucking like any amorous Matine bee Eclectic sweets of fair Philosophy, We fluttered and we fed ; Whatso the theme, it mattered not one bit, Scott or Sordello, Pheidias or Pitt, Whether " Great Women " or the " Great Ice Age," 80 The Dirge of the Amateur Maenad Parkyn on Darwin, Fenton upon drugs, Or Kimmins upon fertilising bugs, Chanced to adorn the stage. Anon to church with high impartial zeal, Or where (his turn to deal) Harris, the Levantine, uplifts the cry " Latest edition from Mt. Sinai ! " From dawn of light unto the stretch of shade, Barring, when lunch is done, Picnics to Ely, boats to Bottisham, Or trips upon the circulating tram, Or the accustomed Senate House parade From half-past twelve to one. Ah ! sacred Temple, what a sight I saw ! That shrine upon whose steps inviolate No mortal shoots the nimble knuckle-taw, Until he pass the pupillary state, 8l G Horace at Cambridge Nor any such upon its floor may be Save when he gets, or goes for, a degree Here now the vagrant gossip moves, and here The tables of the money-changers stand ; The syllabus is bought at second-hand ; The placard, terse and clear, Proclaims alarums and excursions, so That he who runs may read the thing and know Where he has got to go. And in the latter half, about the throne, Silent, select, but not so popular, The seeming-earnest readers sit alone (No smoking is allowed abaft the bar) ; Nor have I mentioned yet the Poste Restantc ; Yea, nothing that the lettered mind can want, Excepting liquors, if it must be said, But here was given gratis or else sold ; Such sacrilege might well have waked the cold Non-placets of the dead. 82 The Dirge of the Amateur Maenad I saw Oxonian Isis, in the shape Of Sadler, 1 bow the head ; Acknowledging his own official tape Was not so fine a red ; I saw Professor R. C. Jebb, M.P., Veiling in modest mood His professorial profundity To deal in platitude ; Verrall I saw lay down his caustic pen And, mildly critical, Deign to make popular remarks on men And things in general. I saw the great McTaggart, 2 pale and proud, Vainly declaim (before a hearty crowd) Of such as cut their names on Learning's seat, And marred her chaste retreat ; 1 At that time Secretary of the Oxford Extension. 2 A motion was brought forward at the Union, dis- approving of the intrusion of Extension Students within the precincts of the University. 83 Horace at Cambridge I saw when in Satyric vein rose Wedd, Champion of " literary Maenads " he, And fairly launched the modern Orpheus' head Down Camus to the sea. All this I tasted and some other things, Like Gosse and Vernon Lee, And ices underneath the elms of King's Or Milton's mulberry-tree ; And now I feel within the after-pain, And here's October with the term again. 84 OXFORD v. CAMBRIDGE LADIES' HOCKEY MATCH * AIR The Battle of the Baltic. OF the Battle of the Blues Sing a really martial strain, When in parti-coloured hues Armed ladies took the plain (With a fig for Mrs. G. and her fads ! ) All in caps and dainty shirts And emancipated skirts, And, as one report asserts, Ankle-pads. Maids from Lady Margaret Hall, Graces too from Girton went, Newnham's nymphs obeyed the call, Somerville her sirens sent, In the middle of a March afternoon. 1 Wimbledon Club ground, March 14, 1894. 35 Horace at Cambridge Hardy men were on the scene, Though their fate might well have been Like Actaeon's with the Queen Of the moon. Then the usual copper bit Was with difficulty spun, And they looked extremely fit When the battle was begun, As the whistle piped the start like a linnet ; " On the ball ! " the captain saith, And the backs are grim as death, And the lot are out of breath In a minute. Heart of oak, they meet and clash, Passing here and tackling there, And the sticks of sturdy ash Fairly bristle in the air, And the partisans remark, " Played, my dear ! " 86 Oxford v. Cambridge Till a rather nasty knock Caused a universal shock, And the men that came to mock Shed a tear. Now the triumvirginate, Who interpreted the rules, Were inclined to arbitrate In the manner of the schools, And invited any plea or suggestion ; Saying, " What are we to do ? Ladies, we appeal to you ; Will you kindly give your view Of the question ? " And at length an Oxford wing, Fleeter than the young opossum, Getting nicely in the ring Nearly made her weapon blossom, As she sent a purler pop through the posts ; 87 Horace at Cambridge Then the temporary rout Brought the smelling-bottles out, And the Cantabs lay about, Pale as ghosts. But they rallied on the spot With encouraging results, And their forwards simply shot Like a set of catapults, Ending victors of the field, three to one ! Then, my masters, sigh not so, Let the Sports and Boat Race go, Since at least your Ladies' show Took the bun ! 88 CAMBRIDGE RE-VISITED " Wait till you come to forty year ! " I AMONG the haunts of sage and saint, Where I was wont to wear the gown And honestly attempt to paint The town, I greet again the gracious Hall That nurtured me when I began To be what one is pleased to call A man. And now I move at " forty year " More pensively than once of yore, And quite a lot of things appear A bore. 89 Horace at Cambridge The jaunts and japes of long ago, That pleased me then, no longer please, In part because I tend to grow Obese. Nor can I altogether gloze The fact that when a man is stout A stately port will pre-dispose To gout. Which things affront the Freshman who Regards it as the cream of crimes To be at all posterior to The times. And when I pass him, flushed and keen, Light-hearted, sound of limb and lung, I feel I never could have been So young. 90 Cambridge Re-visited The spotless tie, the spangled vest, A chrysalis that bursts the shell ! I had forgotten that he dressed So well ! But if my taste resembled his, But now assumes a sober tone, The fault indubitably is My own. For since Britannia ruled the sea, Through all the rounded seasons' range, He changes never ; it is we That change. Along the towing-path I strolled ; The situation seemed the same, And every one was at the old, Old game. 9* Horace at Cambridge I passed a little sporting knot That held in leash the mongrel cur ; I saw that things were fairly what They were. I stood to watch a waiting boat ; The coach was cursing No. 3 ; The fellow had the face to quote From me! Full hoary when I made them mine, These wrinkles, trusty, tried and true- He ran them out as something fine And new ! He wore with all the old aplomb His rude extensions ; nay, I found They ended even farther from The ground. 92 Cambridge Re-visited The captains roamed the river-side ; I wondered, seeing how they sat, *" Great Nimrod ! did we really ride Like that ? " A raucous beast assailed my eye ; " I know that horse," I said, " it comes From " well, I recognised it by Its gums. The same whose ribs were like to swords, Who, when I tossed my men a tip, Would turn his tufted tail towards The ship ! Anon by Barnwell's oozy bed I sniffed the old familiar stench ; Bungay. SOME BOOKS PUBLISHED BY A. D. INNES & COMPANY BEDFORD ST. LONDON W.C. SOME BOOKS PUBLISHED BY A. D. INNES & CO. BY DR. WILHELM BUSCH, Professor at the University of Freiburg in Baden. ENGLAND UNDER THE TUDORS. Vol. L, Henry VII. (1485-1509). Translated from the German by Miss ALICE M. TODD and the Rev. A. H. 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