But before Corpus gateway _My second_ first arose, When Barnacles the freshman Was pinned upon the nose: Pinned on the nose by Boxer, Who brought a hobnailed herd From Barnwell, where he kept a van, Being indeed a dogsmeat man, Vendor of terriers, blue or tan, And dealer in _my third_. ’Twere long to tell how Boxer Was ‘countered’ on the cheek, And knocked into the middle Of the ensuing week: How Barnacles the Freshman Was asked his name and college; And how he did the fatal facts Reluctantly acknowledge. He called upon the Proctor Next day at half-past ten; Men whispered that the Freshman cut A different figure then:— That the brass forsook his forehead, The iron fled his soul, As with blanched lip and visage wan Before the stony-hearted Don He kneeled upon _my whole_. VI. SIKES, housebreaker, of Houndsditch, Habitually swore; But so surpassingly profane He never was before, As on a night in winter, When—softly as he stole In the dim light from stair to stair, Noiseless as boys who in her lair Seek to surprise a fat old hare— He barked his shinbone, unaware Encountering _my whole_. As pours the Anio plainward, When rains have swollen the dykes, So, with such noise, poured down _my first_, Stirred by the shins of Sikes. The Butler Bibulus heard it; And straightway ceased to snore, And sat up, like an egg on end, While men might count a score: Then spake he to Tigerius, A Buttons bold was he: “Buttons, I think there’s thieves about; Just strike a light and tumble out; If you can’t find one, go without, And see what you may see.” But now was all the household, Almost, upon its legs, Each treading carefully about As if they trod on eggs. With robe far-streaming issued Paterfamilias forth; And close behind him,—stout and true And tender as the North,— Came Mrs. P., supporting On her broad arm her fourth. Betsy the nurse, who never From largest beetle ran, And—conscious p’raps of pleasing caps— The housemaids, formed the van: And Bibulus the Butler, His calm brows slightly arched; (No mortal wight had ere that night Seen him with shirt unstarched;) And Bob, the shockhaired knifeboy, Wielding two Sheffield blades, And James Plush of the sinewy legs, The love of lady’s maids: And charwoman and chaplain Stood mingled in a mass, And “Things,” thought he of Houndsditch, “Is come to a pretty pass.” Beyond all things a Baby Is to the schoolgirl dear; Next to herself the nursemaid loves Her dashing grenadier; Only with life the sailor Parts from the British flag; While one hope lingers, the cracksman’s fingers Drop not his hard-earned ‘swag.’