Though not in these inglorious tranquil bowers,
With Science dwelt his youth's untroubled days;
Nor Learning spread within her classic towers
The hoards of ages to his wondering gaze ;—
To other tasks the heroic soul was trained,

'Mid other scenes from War's stern lessons drew

The undaunted strength which Europe's cause maintained, The Energy unquelled, which marks Heaven's favoured few.

Yet still-where'er, by Freedom's breezes fanned,
O'er Britain's prostrate foes his standard flew,
From the first trophies of his conquering hand,
From India's plains to peerless Waterloo ;-
Still Oxford tracked his triumphs from afar,

Still o'er the eventful page of glory dwelt,
Traversed in anxious thought the fields of war,
Shared all her Hero's toils, his every labour felt.

Pure is the fame War's righteous conquests yield,
But loftier praise their deathless glories claim,
Who sway the Senate as they led the Field,

And crown the Warrior's with the Statesman's name:Who, 'mid rebellious Discord's wild alarms,

The undaunted front that quelled their country's foes, The enduring breast that braved a world in arms, To Anarchy's blind rage and Faction's storms oppose.

Champion of Freedom! Order's firmest friend!
Whose heart is fearless as thy cause is just ;
To crowd's or tyrant's rage unknown to bend,—
Oxford to thee commends her sacred trust;
Be thine the task, with pious zeal to guard
Learning's pure home, Religion's ancient shrine:

No loud vain praise, but thine own heart's reward,
No arms of conquering hosts, but Heaven's sure aid be thine.

GEORGE K. RICKARDS, B. A.

TRINITY.

O et præsidium et dulce decus meum.

Hor.

Μάτερος σεμνᾶς νέον ἀγλάϊσμα, Σώτερ εὐθρόνου Σοφίας, σὲ μῶνον μῶνον ἡρώων ἐρατοῖσι φωνᾶς

ᾄσμασιν ὑμνεῖ

εὐλύρων Μωσᾶν χόρος—οὐ γὰρ αὐγὰ τευχέων σφιν, οὐκ ἔρις, οὐ κυδοιμὸς

ἀνδάνει σὲ δ ̓ εὐδόκιμον φιλεῖ δει

ναῖς ἐν ἁμίλλαις

χρυσόθριξ Ελευθερία, φιλεῖ δ ̓ ἂν πύργον Εἰράνα σε, καλόν τ' ἄγαλμα, ἄμβροτος Μωσᾶν τρόφος, ἃ δ ̓ ἅπασα ἄφθιτον αἰεὶ

δῶκεν Εὐρώπα στεφάνωμα δόξας
ὡς ὁ μαργῶν ἀφραδίαις τύραννος
δείν ̓ ἀπειλῶν ὤρορεν, ὥς τις ἀστὴρ
οὔλιος ἀστήρ,

ἐμφανὴς ὥραις μεσονυκτίοισιν, πυρφόροις ῥίπαις φλεγέθων· τὸ δ ̓ εὐθὺς

ἔσβεσας κομπάσματα, καὶ μάταιον ὄλβον ἔπαυσας.

αὐτίκ ̓ οὖν θνάσκει τὸ κενὸν φρόναμα, οὐδ ̓ ὁ θεῖος ἅλιος οὔποτ ̓ αὖθις

ἐν μάχαις ἐναίσιμον, ὥστε δαίμων,

φέγγος ἀνοίσει.

ἀλλὰ γὰρ βέβακεν—ἅπαξ βέβακεν φοίνιον κείνου σέλας, ὡς δ' ἐμοὶ νῦν φασμάτων σκιάσματα νυκτιφοίτων, ἠὲ νόαμα,

ἃ τύχα πέφηνε, τά τ' ἔργα τἀνδρός ἐν δέ τις χρησταῖς φρεσὶν ἐμπέφυκε δαίων ἀνδρῶν πόθος, ὅντιν' εὖ κεχ

ρήμενον αἴσα,

δυσχερῆ τ' εὐδαιμονίας κέλευθα καρτεραῖς βαίνοντα ποσὶν, τότ ̓ αὖθις

ἐκ θεῶν φθάνουσα κακά τις "Ατα

καὶ κόρος εἷλεν.

σοὶ δ ̓ ἀεὶ κεδνὰ χάρις ἀμπιθάλλει, χὰ βροτῶν φιλοφροσύνα· τὸ δ ̓ ἄμμων Μᾶτερ ὦ πρέσβιστα δέχου γερῶν σωτῆρα παλαιῶν,

ἀσμέναις λαβοῦσά νιν ὠλέναισιν ὡς ὅδ ̓ εὔνους ἠιθέων ὅμιλος,

χὡ φίλων χειρῶν κρότος, ἃ δέ νιν πανάγυρις ἅδε

προφρόνως ἀσπάζεται· ὁ δὲ πατρὶς, καὶ τόδ ̓ ἀρχαῖον Σοφίας πόλισμα ἄλκιμον καλεῖ κράτος—ἐν θυέλλαις ἀσφαλὲς ἔρμα.

MILES ATKINSON, B. A.

E COLL. REG.