488 OXFORD, BY DAY AND NIGHT. 



That certain 'tis that no one here 

 Of gout can have the slightest fear, 



And apoplexy ne'er was known 

 To visit this choice seat of knowledge, 



And tumble from his much-lov'd throne, 

 Some fat and well-fed " Head of College." 

 To take their wine some youths resort, 

 And swell their fill of hock and port, 

 Inhale the soothing hooka's power, 



Or old cigars at Castle's found, 

 Sending of fragrant smoke a shower, 



In thick profusion all around. 



Old Gattie's shop is now fill'd quite, 



And wreaths of smoke around it play, 

 Gattie hands round cigars and light, 



And tells the lore of green-room gay. 

 His Thespian gossip never fails 



Of what he's said, and whom he's seen, 

 And many are the wond'rous tales 



He tells of Kemble and of Kean.* 

 The funny anecdotic stuff 



He tells the smokers, knowing elf, 

 They swallow down with every puff, 



While he is never SMOK'D himself. 

 Fun, scandal, smut, from Drury Lane 



He knows, old boy, on whom to hitch it ; 

 And for his hearers it is as plain, 



That not e'en he too strong can pitch it. 



Others more grave, who spurn all this, 



Sink in sweet visionary bliss, 



In elbow'd ease, and cushion'd chair, 



Which ever to my fancy seem, 

 The beds fit after feeding rare, 



To yield a most enchanting dream. 

 O'er "First Class," " Fellows," "Tutors," all, 

 Methinks I see a slumber fall, 



Digestion to help on, 

 And to my view there is displayed 

 The dream in all its hues array'd> 



That flits each mind upon. 



" The First Class" in his vision sees 

 The shade of great Thucydides, 

 This fades away, and Cicero seems 

 To mingle with his classic dreams ; 

 Till laughter rushes on his ears, 

 And Aristophanes appears ; 



Then Aristotle rises slowly 

 Bearing his works of abstruse knowledge, 



He sinks, and clad in vestments holy, 

 Appears the founder of the college, 

 Just as in statue he doth stand, 

 With monkish garb, and crosier'd hand. 



* Gattie's narrations combine the sublime, the pathetic, and the humorous in a 

 pre-eminent degree. They are embellished also with a fertility of imagination and 

 diction, that gives to common events the semblance of romance. 



