When the goodman mends his armour, And trims his helmet’s plume; When the goodwife’s shuttle merrily Goes flashing through the loom; With weeping and with laughter Still is the story told, How well Horatius kept the bridge In the brave days of old. T. B. MACAULAY. ―――― THE FIGHT OF THE CRESCENT. _A Lay of Modern Cambridge._ The sturdy undergraduates Are pouring in amain, Up thro’ the fair Rose Crescent, The Market-place to gain―― From many a wild wine-party, From many a sober tea, From the distant halls of Downing, And the Courts of Trinity. From lowly Queen’s Quadrangle, Where muffins are the go; From Magd’lene, famed for fast men, From Cath’rine, famed for slow; From Caius, where anxious proctors To keep the gates shut try; From Clare, where Dons chivalrous Unlock them on the sly. There be twenty chosen gownsmen, The foremost of the band, Pupils of SAMBO SUTTON, To keep the Crescent stand: They can’t run if they wish’d it; Perforce they bear the brunt, For the gownsmen in the rear-rank Push the gownsmen in the front. And all within the Market-place, And Market-Hill along, The townsmen, far as words can go, Come it uncommon strong, But as yet no nose is bleeding, As yet no man is down; For the gownsmen funk the townsmen, And the townsmen funk the gown. When, lo! a cad comes brimful Of bravery and beer―― “To arms! to arms! The Borough Police will soon be here!” Thro’ Market Street to eastward, Each townsman turn’d his eye, And saw the hats and truncheons Rise fast along the sky. And plainly and more plainly, Now may each gownsman know, By form and face, by port and pace, Each big blue-coated foe. There, in the front, fierce FREESTONE, Be-whisker’d may be seen, And stalwart SERGEANT SEABROOK, With buttons bright and sheen; And BUGGINS, of the mutton fist; And MUGGINS, with the fearful twist; And HOBBS, famed for his waving curls; And DOBBS, adored by servant girls, And gruff INSPECTOR GREENE! Then out spake a fellow-commoner, In voice both sad and low, And darkly look’d he on his friends, And darkly on his foe: “They’ll be too many for us; Ten to one against the gown: Unless we get to Trinity We’ll be wollop’d by the town.” Then out spake brave FITZ-WIGGINS, Though a small college man: “To keep the Crescent ’gainst the cads, I’ll do the best I can! And if none will stand beside me, Alone I’ll face the snobs, Despite fierce FREESTONE’S truncheon And the staves of HOBBS or DOBBS!” Then out spake SIR TOM NODDY, A son of Trinity, “Lo, I will stand at thy right hand, And the Crescent keep with thee.” And out spake MERRYPEBBLES―― A Johnian was he―― “I will abide at thy left side, And the Crescent keep with thee.”