The doors flung wide, the boards and benches set, The nervous candidates for fame are met. See yon poor wretch, just shivering from his bed, Gnaw at his nails and scratch his empty head; With lengthened visage o'er each question pore, And ransack all his memory for its store. This Euclid argued, or this Newton taught-- Thus Butler reasoned, or thus Paley thought; With many a weapon of the learned strife, Prized for an hour, then flung aside for life. Ah! what avails him now his vaunted art, To stride the steed, or guide the tandem-cart? His loved ecarté, or his gainful whist? What snobs he pommelled, or what maidens kissed? His ball-room elegance, his modish air, And easy impudence, that charmed the fair? Ah! what avails him that to Fashion's fame Admiring boudoirs echoed forth his name? All would he yield, if all could buy one look, Though but a moment's, o'er the once-scorned book. --Enough, enough, once let the scene suffice; Bid me not, Fancy, brave its horrors twice. The wrangler's glory in his well-earned fame, The prizeman's triumph, and the pluck'd man's shame, With all fair Learning's well-bestowed rewards, Are they not fitting themes for nobler bards? Poor Lentulus, twice plucked, some happy day Just shuffles through, and dubs himself B. A.; Thanks heaven, flings by his cap and gown, and shuns A place made odious by remorseless duns. Not so the wrangler,--him the Fellows' room Shall boast its ornament for years to come; Till some snug rectory to his lot may fall, Or e'en (his fondest wish) a prebend's stall: Then burst triumphant on th' admiring town The full-fledged honours of his Doctor's gown. Yes, Granta, thus thy sacred shades among Join grave and thoughtless in one motley throng. Forgive my muse, if aught her trifling air Seems to throw scorn upon thy kindly care. Long may thy sons, with heaven-directed hand, Spread wide the glories of a grateful land-- Uphold their country's and their sovereign's cause-- Adorn her church, or wield her rev'rend laws; By virtue's might her senate's counsel sway, And scare red Faction powerless from his prey. And ye, who, thriftless of your life's best days, Have sought but Pleasure in fair Learning's ways, Though nice reformers of the sophists' school Mock the old maxims of Collegiate rule, Deem them not worthless, because oft abused, Nor sneer at blessings, which yourselves refused.--U. T. FOOTNOTES: [24] _Videlicet_--the Dean's apartment; a visit to which frequently concludes by the visitor's finding himself "gated," _i. e._, obliged to be within the college walls by 10 o'clock at night; by this he is prevented from partaking in suppers, or other nocturnal festivities, in any other college or in lodgings.