A great shout of defiance From all the snobs arose, But the three stand calm and silent―― A thumb to every nose! And forth three Peelers rushing, Attempt to storm the Pass; Truncheons are thick, but fists are quick, And down they go to grass! FITZ-WIGGINS floor’d fierce FREESTONE, TOM NODDY levell’d HOBBS, And cheerful MERRYPEBBLES Black’d both the eyes of DOBBS; And the aggravated townsmen Stand all appall’d to see On the flags the unconscious Peelers―― In the Pass the dauntless Three! And on the leaguer’d Crescent Was none would brave attack; But those behind cried “Forward!” And those in front cried “Back!” Meanwhile their legs the gownsmen Right manfully have plied; And now they’ve got to Trinity, And the gates are open’d wide. “Come back, come back, FITZ-WIGGINS,” Loud cried they from the gate “Back NODDY, MERRYPEBBLES, Back, or you’ll be too late!” But the police are on them, And their truncheons fierce they ply; Now the fates save brave FITZ-WIGGINS―― What a terrible black eye!―― Though MERRYPEBBLES’ head be The thickest in the ring, It scarce can ’scape unbroken; Such staves must make it sing. Alone stood SIR TOM NODDY, But constant still in mind, Policemen pitching in before And Trinity behind. “Down with him!” cried false SEABROOK, As he mopped his bloody face; “Now yield thee,” cried the Inspector, “Now yield thee, to our grace!” But brave TOM NODDY never deigned An answer; no not he; But he floor’d the Inspector neatly As a man could wish to see: And through the storming townsmen And the irate police, He fights his passage manfully, And he wins the gate in peace. And now, his gown in ribbands, In the crowded court he stands, And “to call upon him the next day,” Receives the Dean’s commands. And then with shouts and clapping, And hip, hip, hurrah, loud, He passes on unto his rooms, Borne by the admiring crowd. But he was rusticated By the Dons that very night; And when he show’d them his black eye, They said, “It served him right.” But long at our wine-parties, We’ll remember how, like bricks, Stout NODDY kept the Crescent, In Eighteen-forty-six! _Punch._ April 11, 1846. ―――― MARCUS CURTIUS, THE HONEST LAWYER. (_A Lay of Ancient Rome._) Wilt hear how Marcus Curtius, that lawyer true and hold, Did bravely for his country in the brave days of old? How by Justinian’s Institutes and his green baize bag he swore, That the only honest lawyer could live in Rome no more? Oh, none could be more honest in life and death, than he Who cheated but the sexton, and saved the burial fee.