Here pores the student, till his aching sight No more can brook the glimmering taper's light; Then Slumber's links their nerveless captive bind, While Fancy's magic mocks his fevered mind; Then a dim train of years unborn sweeps by In glorious vision on his raptured eye: See Fortune's stateliest sons in homage bow, And fling vain lustre o'er his toilworn brow! Away, ye drivellers! dare ye speak to him Of cheek grown bloodless, or of eye grown dim? Who heeds the sunken cheek, or wasted frame, While Hope shouts "Onward! to undying fame." Glance further, if thine eye can pierce the mist Raised round the votaries of Loo and Whist; Scarce such kind Venus round her offspring flung To bear him viewless through the Punic throng;[28] Scarce such floats round old Skiddaw's crown of snow, And veils its grimness from the plains below. Here, too, gay Lentulus conspicuous sits, Chief light and oracle of circling wits. Who with such careless grace the trick can take, Or fling with such untrembling hand his stake? But though with well-feigned case his glass he sips, And puffs the balmy cloud from smiling lips, Care broods within--his soul alone regards His ebbing pocket and the varying cards; While one resolve his saddened spirit fills-- The diminution of his next term's bills. Lamp after lamp expires as night grows late, And feet less frequent rattle at the gate. The wearied student now rakes out his fire-- The host grows dull, and yawning guests retire-- Till, all its labours and its follies o'er, The silent College sinks to sleep once more. Thus roll the hours, thus roll the weeks away, Till terms expiring bring the long-feared day, When rake and student equal terror know-- That lest he's plucked, this lest he pass too low. Though different epochs mark their wide careers, And serve for reck'ning points through fleeting years-- To this a tripos or a Senate's grace, To that a fox-hunt, ball, or steeple-chase,-- When three short years of toil or sloth are past, This common bugbear scares them all at last.