* * * * * I wis ’midst all the Leaders There was no heart so bold, But sore it ached, and fast it beat, When that ill news was told. Forthwith up rose the Captain, Up rose the Leaders all, In haste they tore away their gowns, And shied them at the wall. They held a Council standing Beside the Royal Gate, No time was there, ye well may guess, For musing or debate, Outspake the Leader roundly, Picked men must straight go down. For if Rose Crescent once is lost, What hope to save the Gown? * * * * * Then out spoke Brown the brave one―― The Captain of the eight―― “To every man this fight will bring A struggle soon or late. And how can a man fight better, Then facing fearful odds, For the honour of his College, And his oft invoked gods.[105] “To the Crescent, then, Sir Leader, With all the speed ye may; I and two more to help me Will hold the foe in play. In that strait path a hundred May well be stopped by three. Now who will stand on either hand, And keep the lane with me?” Then out spake brave Mackenzie, A Scotchman proud was he, “Lo, I will stand at thy right hand, And keep the lane with thee.” And out spake strong O’Grady, Hibernian blood had he―― “I will abide at thy left side, And keep the lane with thee.” * * * * * And so they won Rose Crescent, And beat the Townsmen back―― But they owed it to the Valiant THREE Who bore the first attack―― That DAUNTLESS THREE who stood there, And kept in check the foes, And who so bravely held their post, In the Crescent of the Rose. And in the nights of winter When the cold north winds blow―― And the “hallooing” of the cads Is heard amidst the snow; When round the well-built college Roars loud the tempest’s din, And the black gems from collieries Roar louder yet within; When the choicest cup is ready, And the largest lamp is lit, When the chestnuts glow in the embers, And the edibles are fit, When all the men in circle Around the fireplace close, When some are smoking placidly And some on sofas doze; When the host prepares the potables, And makes all snug his room, And the cheers of all his comrades Far in the court-yard boom―― With shouting and with laughter―― Still is the story told How well those three men kept the path, In the brave days of old. In 1875, Messrs. Metcalfe of Cambridge, published another, “Town and Gown” parody, entitled “_Thanatos_: A Poem by the ghost of Macaulay.” This was written by Mr. Kerr, a nephew of Lord Tennyson. FIFTH OF NOVEMBER. Up rose the silver moonlight Over the rustling trees, And fast the hum of angry men Was wafted on the breeze.