Oxford Days; or, How Ross Got His Degree — John Shaqi
Oxford Days; or, How Ross Got His DegreeWeatherly, F. E. (Frederic Edward)
History
Oxford Days; or, How Ross Got His Degree
Weatherly, F. E. (Frederic Edward)
University of Oxford
“On Sunday, the church-day,
To dance we are gone;
Andrew leads Peggy,
Janet leads John.”
And then the guides, the landlord, and his wife all sang together; the
young giant representing the love-sick tenor in such a way as to make
every one shout with laughter:--
_Tenor._ “Out of the Tyrol I come, a long, long way,
To look for my sweetheart, my little May.
_Bass._ What does he say?
_Soprano._ Ah, poor lover!
_All._ So long, so long he has not seen his love,
So long he has not seen his love!
_Tenor._ “As any bright penny was my little Jenny!
And a dimple was in
My Jenny’s sweet chin!
_Bass._ What does he say?
_All._ So long, so long he has not seen his love!
_Tenor._ “’Tis two long years agone
Since I left my love alone;
I’d give my true love’s weight in gold
Could I her face behold.
_Bass._ Hark what he says!
_Soprano._ O what a fond lover!
_All._ So long, so long he has not seen his love!”
And then Edwards sang an English song, the rest joining in the chorus,
to the infinite delight of the Switzers. After which the guide
suggested moving on.
At half-past one they reached the Bel-alp, and found, somewhat to
their surprise, that there was no village, not even a _châlet_, but
only a great inn, half wooden, half stone. The landlord, a little, fat,
hoarse-speaking man, with a thick black moustache, and two cow-girls,
called chambermaids, with their faces swathed in flannel, met them; and
presently they slept soundly in their little bare rooms, with their
wooden walls and ceilings, that made them feel for all the world as
though they were dolls put to bed in boxes.
But what a view next morning! Down there in the valley, as they stand
at the inn door, they can just make out where Brieg lies. Beyond, the
entrance to the Simplon Pass; and, over all, the Matterhorn, Weisshorn,
Monte Leone, Mischabel, and the Fletschhorn. Up behind them towers
the great white Sparrenhorn. Down on the left crawls the broad Aletsh
Glacier, with its huge, rough, pale-blue waves moving and melting, and
foaming at the “snout” in torrents of stormy water.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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