But now the sounding clocks in haste recall Each hungry straggler to his College hall; For Alma Mater well her nursling rears, Nor cheats his gullet, while she fills his ears. Heavens! what a clatter rends the steam-fraught air-- How waiters jostle, and how Freshmen stare! One thought here strikes me--and the thought is sad-- The carving for the most part is but bad. See the torn turkey and the mangled goose! See the hack'd sirloin and the spattered juice! Ah! can the College well her charge fulfil, Who thus neglects the petit-maître's skill? The tutor proves each pupil on the books-- Why not give equal license to the cooks? As the grave lecturer, with scrupulous care, Tries how his class picks up its learned fare-- From Wisdom's banquet makes the dullard fast-- Denied admittance till his trial's past-- So the slow Freshman on a crust should starve, Till practice taught him nobler food to carve: Then Granta's sons a useful fame should know, And shame with skill each dinner-table beau. High on the daïs, and more richly stored, Well has old custom placed the Fellow's board: Thus shall the student feel his fire increased By brave ambition for the well-graced feast-- Mark the sleek merriment of rev'rend Dons, And learn how science well rewards her sons. But spare, my muse, to pierce the sacred gloom That veils the mysteries of the Fellows' room; Nor hint how Dons, their untasked hours to pass, Like Cato, warm their virtues with the glass.[27] Once more, at sound of chapel chime, repairs The surpliced scholar to his vesper prayers; For discipline this tribute at his hands, First and last duty of the day, demands. Then each, as diligence or mirth invite, Careful improves or thriftless wastes the night. Stand in the midst, and with observant eye Each chamber's tenant at his task descry. Here the harsh mandate of the Dean enthrals Some prayerless pris'ner to the College walls, Who in the novel's pages seeks to find A brief oblivion for his angry mind. Haply the smoke-wreathed meerschaum shall supply An evenness of soul which they deny. Charm! that alike can soothing pleasure bring To sage or savage, mendicant or king; Sov'reign to blunt the pangs of torturing pain, Or clear the mazes of the student's brain! Swift at thy word, amidst the soul's misrule, Content resumes her sway, and rage grows cool.