"Be Folly and False-seeming free to affect Whatever formal gait of Discipline Shall raise them highest in their own esteem: Let them parade amongst the Schools at will, But spare the House of God! Was ever known The witless shepherd who persists to drive A flock that thirsts not to a pool disliked? A weight must surely hang on days begun And ended with such mockery. Be wise, Ye Presidents[64] and Deans, and to your bells Give seasonable rest, for 'tis a sound Hollow as ever vexed the tranquil air; And your officious doings bring disgrace On the plain steeples of our English Church, Whose worship, 'mid remotest village trees Suffers for this." [Footnote 63: There was no attempt at music, no organ even, anywhere save at King's, Trinity, and St. John's, and these three Colleges kept between them a choir of six "lay clerks" (elderly for the most part), who used to hurry from service to service, as did also the single organist employed! And this went on till 1842!] [Footnote 64: At St. John's, the title of President is given to the Vice-master of the College.] It is interesting to note that these sentiments are echoed, a year or two later, from Oxford, by Southey, then also in his youthful paroxysm of Revolutionary fervour. He lets himself go in his "Ode to the Chapel Bell": "O how I hate the sound! It is the knell That still a requiem tolls to Comfort's hour; And loth am I, at Superstition's bell, To quit, or Morpheus', or the Muse's bower. Better to lie and doze than gape amain, Hearing still mumbled o'er the same eternal strain, * * * * * The snuffling, snaffling Fellow's nasal tone, And Romish rites retained, though Romish faith be flown." [Illustration: _Hall, St. John's College._] The Hall of St. John's was the scene of notable Christmas feasting in the good old days of academic prosperity. Daily, from Christmas to Twelfth Night, boars' heads, turkeys, gargantuan pasties, and cups of a peculiarly enticing composition, went the round of the board. After the fatal agricultural depression of the 'seventies these hospitable doings dwindled more and more, till now they are wholly of the past.