Sagittulae, Random Verses Part 2

From Parker's Piece and Former's shall be banished bat and wicket, For crotchet work and knitting shall supplant the game of cricket, Save whene'er a match at croquet once a Term is played at Girton By the Members of "the College" and the Moralists of Merton.

Then no tandems shall be driven, and no more athletic sports, Save fancy b.a.l.l.s and dances, shall appear in "Field" reports: And instead of 'pots' and 'pewters' to promote the art of walking, We shall have a silver medal for proficiency in talking.

Wranglers fair shall daily wrangle, who no Mathematics ken; Lady preachers fill the pulpit, lady critics wield the pen.

O ye gallant, gallant heroes who the River's head have won, Little know ye what an era of confusion hath begun.

I myself shall flee from Cambridge, sick at heart and sorely vexed, Ere I see my University disestablished and uns.e.xed.'"

Thus she spake, and I endeavoured to console the weeping Muse: "Dry your tears, beloved Clio, drive away this fit of blues.

Cease your soul with gloomy fancies and forebodings to perplex; You are doing gross injustice to the merits of your s.e.x.

Know you not that things are changing, that the Earth regains her youth, Since Philosophers have brought to light the one primeval truth?

Long have all things been misgoverned by the foolish race of men, Who've monopolized sword, sceptre, mitre, ermine, spade, and pen, All the failures, all the follies, that the weary world bewails, Have arisen, trust me, simply from the government of males.

But a brighter age is dawning; in the circling of the years Lordly woman sees before her new 'ambitions,' new careers; For the world's regeneration instantaneously began, When Philosophers discovered the inferior claims of man.

With new honours Alma Mater shall eternally be crowned, When the Ladies march in triumph, and her learned seat surround; Then a n.o.bler race of students, and of athletes shall arise, Students fair who thirst for knowledge, athletes true who 'pots' despise.

It is well for thee, sweet Clio, at their harmless tastes to sneer, At their love of cats and croquet, their antipathy to beer; But as soon as every College has surrendered to the fair, Life up here will be perfection, we shall breathe ambrosial air; For the problem of past ages will be solved, and we shall find The superior powers of woman, both in body and in mind.

She shall teach us how to study, how to ride, and run, and row; How to box and play at cricket; how the heavy weight to throw; How to shoot the trembling pigeon; how the wily rat to slay; How at football and at racquets; how at whist and chess to play; How to drive the rapid tandem; how to jump, and how to walk; (For young women, trust me, Clio, can do something more than talk) How to climb the Alps in summer; how in winter time to skate; How to hold the deadly rifle; how a yacht to navigate; How to make the winning hazard with an effort sure and strong; How to play the maddening comet, how to sing a comic song; How to 'utilize' Professors; how to purify the Cam; How to brew a sherry cobbler, and to make red-currant jam.

All the arts which now we practise in a desultory way Shall be taught us to perfection, when we own the Ladies' sway."

Thus I spake, and strove by speaking to a.s.suage sweet Clio's fears; But she shook her head in sorrow, and departed drowned in tears.

(1874).

[1] Mr. J. B. Close, a well-known oarsman, stroke of the First Trinity 1st Boat.

[*] [Transcriber's note: The word "psychroloutes" appears in the original book in Greek. It has been transliterated from the Greek letters psi, upsilon, chi, rho, omicron, lambda, omicron, upsilon, tau, eta, and sigma.]

ATHLETES AND AESTHESIS.

_An Idyll of the Cam_.

It was an Undergraduate, his years were scarce nineteen; Discretion's years and wisdom's teeth he plainly ne'er had seen; For his step was light and jaunty, and around him wide and far He puffed the fragrant odours of a casual cigar.

It was a sweet girl-graduate, her years were thirty two; Her brow was intellectual, her whole appearance blue; Her dress was mediaeval, and, as if by way of charm, Six volumes strapped together she was bearing 'neath her arm.

'My beautiful Aesthesis,' the young man rashly cried, 'I am the young Athletes, of Trinity the pride; I have large estates in Ireland, which ere long will pay me rent; I have rooms in Piccadilly, and a farm (unlet) in Kent.

'My achievements thou hast heard of, how I chalk the wily cue, Pull an oar, and wield the willow, and have won my double-blue; How I ride, and play lawn tennis; how I make a claret cup; Own the sweetest of bull terriers, and a grand St. Bernard pup.

'But believe me, since I've seen thee, all these pleasures are a bore; Life has now one only object fit to love and to adore; Long in silence have I wors.h.i.+pped, long in secret have I sighed: Tell me, beautiful Aesthesis, wilt thou be my blooming bride?'

'Sir Student,' quoth the maiden, 'you are really quite intense, And I ever of this honour shall retain the highest sense; But forgive me, if I venture'--faintly blus.h.i.+ng thus she spoke-- 'Is not true love inconsistent with tobacco's mundane smoke?'

'Perish all that comes between us,' cried Athletes, as he threw His weed full fifty paces in the stream of Camus blue: The burning weed encountered the cold river with the hiss Which ensues when fire and water, wranglers old, are forced to kiss.

'Sir Student, much I thank thee,' said the Lady, 'thou hast shown The fragrance of a lily, or of petals freshly blown; But before to thee I listen there are questions not a few Which demand from thee an answer satisfactory and true.'

'Fire away,' exclaimed Athletes, 'I will do the best I can; But remember, gentle Maiden, that I'm not a reading man; So your humble servant begs you, put your questions pretty plain, For my Tutors all a.s.sure me I'm not overstocked with brain.

'Sir Student' cried the Lady, and her glance was stern and high, Hast thou felt the soft vibration of a summer sunset sky?

Art thou soulful? Art thou tuneful? Cans't thou weep o'er nature's woes?

Art thou redolent of Ruskin? Dost thou love a yellow rose?

'Hast thou bathed in emanations from the canva.s.s of Burne Jones?

As thou gazest at a Whistler, doth it whistle wistful tones?

Art thou sadly sympathetic with a symphony in blue?

Tell me, tell me, gentle Student, art thou really quite tootoo?'

''Pon my word,' replied the Student, 'this is coming it too strong: I can sketch a bit at Lecture, and can sing a comic song; But my head with all these subjects 'tis impossible to cram; So, my beautiful Aesthesis, you must take me as I am.'

'Wilt thou come into my parlour,' sweetly blus.h.i.+ng asked the Maid, 'To my little bower in Girton, where a table shall be laid?

Pen and paper I will bring thee, and whatever thou shalt ask, That is lawful, shall be granted for performance of thy task.'

Lightly leapt the young Athletes from his seat beside the Cam: 'This is tempting me, by Jingo, to submit to an Exam!

So it's time, my learned Lady, you and I should say good-bye'-- And he stood with indignation and wild terror in his eye.

They parted, and Athletes had not left her very far, Ere again he puffed the odours of a casual cigar; But he oftentimes lamented, as to manhood's years he grew, 'What a pity such a stunner was so spoilt by being blue!'

And Aesthesis, as she watched him with his swinging manly stride, The 'double-blue' Athletes, of Trinity the pride, Found it difficult entirely to eradicate love's dart, As she listened to thy Lecture, Slade Professor of Fine Art.

And Ruskin, and the warblings of Whistler and Burne Jones, And symphonies in colours, and sunset's silent tones, Move her not as once they moved her, for she weeps in sorrow sore, 'O had I loved Athletes less, or he loved culture more!'

(1882).

A VISION.

As hard at work I trimmed the midnight lamp, Yfilling of mine head with cla.s.sic lore, Mine hands firm clasped upon my temples damp, Methought I heard a tapping at the door; 'Come in,' I cried, with most unearthly rore, Fearing a horrid Dun or Don to see, Or Tomkins, that unmitigated bore, Whom I love not, but who alas! loves me, And cometh oft unbid and drinketh of my tea.

'Come in,' I rored; when suddenly there rose A magick form before my dazzled eyes: 'Or do I wake,' I asked myself 'or doze'?

Or hath an angel come in mortal guise'?

So wondered I; but nothing mote surmise; Only I gazed upon that lovely face, In reverence yblent with mute surprise: Sure never yet was seen such wondrous grace, Since Adam first began to run his earthlie race.

Her hands were folded on her bosom meek; Her sweet blue eyes were lifted t'ward the skie; Her lips were parted, yet she did not speak; Only at times she sighed, or seemed to sigh: In all her 'haviour was there nought of shy; Yet well I wis no Son of Earth would dare, To look with love upon that lofty eye; For in her beauty there was somewhat rare, A something that repell'd an ordinary stare.

Then did she straight a snowycloth disclose Of samite, which she placed upon a chair: Then, smiling like a freshly-budding rose, She gazed upon me with a witching air, As mote a Cynic anchorite ensnare.

Eftsoons, as though her thoughts she could not smother, She hasted thus her mission to declare:-- 'Please, these is your clean things I've brought instead of brother, 'And if you'll pay the bill you'll much oblige my mother.'

(1860).

A MAY TERM MEMORY.

She wore a sweet pink bonnet, The sweetest ever known: And as I gazed upon it, My heart was not my own.

For--I know not why or wherefore-- A pink bonnet put on well, Tho' few other things I care for, Acts upon me like a spell.