Vos Cæsarem altum, militia simul
Fessas cohortes abdidit oppidis,
Finire quærentem labores

Pierio recreatis antro. Hor.

BELLO solutum Patria Cæsarem,
Stratis per orbem gentibus otio,
Vittata lætanti recepit

In requiem titulosque pompa :

En ille Patrum concilio gravi,
Bellator olim fulmineus, sedet
Augustus, attritamque lauri

Paciferæ tegit umbra frontem.

Sic, dum triumphans, auspice te, bona
Terras coercet pace Britannia
Late quiescentes, et altum,

Sceptra gerens, equitat per æquor;

Te nunc salutis præsidium suæ
Testata, plenis cingit honoribus,
Bellique connectit perenni
Exuvias Rhedycina lauro.

Diæ Sacerdos hæc Sapientiæ,

D

Ceu pura Vestæ serva, resuscitat
Ignes inextinctos, et almam

Usque fovet Pietatis aram.

Intaminatis militiæ simul

Fastis repostos fronde sacra duces
Accingit, et fessos quieta

Pieridum recreat sub umbra.

His arma figens tu penetralibus
Non indecoris functa periculis,
Tutela præclarumque nostræ,

Ipse decus, celebrande, famæ

Gaudes vocari. Te precibus tui
Oramus, æquis, relliquias sacras

Delubra, doctrinæque puros

Auspiciis tueare fontes

Quid Marte possis, liber ab hostibus
Testatur orbis: nec minus in toga
Persæpe firmasti labantes

Consilio meliore Patres.

Te sensit, arcem prospiciens tuis
Flammis ruentem barbarus Indiæ
Tyrannus, excussaque crines
Pulverei jacuere mitra.

Tu, cum procellæ turbine Gallica
Gentes Erynnis sterneret, impium

Bello retorsisti furorem,

Terribili domitum triumpho.

Immotus idem, justitia duce,
Et temperanti consilio regens,
Vanos refrenasti tumultus,

Et populum scelus infrementem.

Hac arte, fractis victor ab hostibus,
Interque Patres propositi tenax,
Enixus, æterna vigebis

Post cineres tumulumque, fama.

GEORGE TICKELL,

BALLIOL.

Marshal, demand of yonder Champion
The cause of his arrival here in arms.

Shakespear.

DEAR to the warrior is the proud array
Of banner'd hosts-impatient for the fray.
Deep rapture dwelleth in the battle strife
To him-to all, that reck not of their life;
As on with reeking flank, and nostril wide,
Wildly the war-steed dashes in his pride;
Sharp rings the steel on many a mailed breast,
Yet proudly still the warrior's streaming crest,
White as the foam wind-sever'd from the wave,
Floats o'er the surge-like conflux of the brave.
Yes, it is sweet-though Freedom's blood may flow,
Fame follows still to sanctify the blow;
And Glory's star, more bright amid the gloom,
Hallows alike the trophy and the tomb.

But holier, sweeter far, the tranquil bliss Breath'd o'er his spirit in an hour like this;

When from his brow the helm is laid aside,
And peace hath robb'd his bosom of its pride;
When in the courts of Honour's crowded hall,
For him glad thousands hold their festival;
When Science welcomes back her warrior son,
And Wisdom twines the wreath by Valour won;
When myriad lips, responsive to the swell
Of the full heart, his praise in thunder tell;
And Beauty's eye, more eloquently grave,
Sends down its silent greeting to the brave:
When they-the good, whose love is more than fame,
Spread that best, brightest halo round his name:
And, like a stream, the glad song rushes free,
Flinging its scanty tribute to the sea;

Moves not that peaceful throng his spirit more
Than War's death-waking trump-or Battle's onward

roar?

Welcome! thrice welcome! to our festive hallThe breast that aye was bar'd at Honour's call Should shine in Honour's garb-the arm that drew Stern Freedom's brand, should share her beauty too! Welcome! what other gift can Learning bring? What wreath unworn is left her yet to fling?