434 OXFORD, BY DAY AND NIGHT. 



and improvise twenty times as many. They will gnash their teeth 

 at the thought that they ever allowed her to quit their city. They 

 will aver that she has been poisoned by / barbari Inglesi, or, which 

 is worse, has perhaps been choked to death by questo benedetto ras- 

 bif. They will continue their complaints, and murmurs, and lamen- 

 tations, till the government begins to, feel a little uneasy upon the 

 subject; some new object of adoration will then be lifted before the 

 eyes of the multitude; a new enchantress will then be seated upon 

 the throne of the Syren Parthenope ; the votaries will rush in crowds; 

 the shouts will arise ; the roofs will ring ; and Naples will be itself 

 again. 



The death of those we love, may be distressing, earthquakes and 

 eruptions may be awful and terrific ; but what is either, to the loss 

 of a prima donna ? to a closed Opera-House ? other sorrows may find 

 consolation : this has none ; it is hopeless and irremediable. For all 

 is not lost, while the theatre remains. And well spake that despond- 

 ing lazzarone, when he explained to his condoling friends at once 

 the cause and the remedy of his melancholy, " E morta la mia moglie ; 

 bisogna vedere il Polichinello:" " my wife is dead, and I must go 

 and see Punch! 1 ' D. 



OXFORD, BY DAY AND NIGHT. 



THE summer's sun, on golden wings, 



Now darts o'er trees and towers ; 

 And, rising slowly, gently flings 



His beams o'er Oxford's bowers. 

 All that now meets the welcome sight, 

 Starts forth from darkness into light, 



And seems to hail the beam 

 That flits from hall to hall again, 

 And gilds thy towers, Magdalen, 



And Isis' winding stream. 

 Daylight is breaking bright upon 



Beth Bridge, and classic porch; 

 Huge Christ Church it is gleaming on. 



And old St. Mary's Church. 



And see where, in the long High Street, 

 The youth f\i\ freshmen thirsty meet, 



Hot from the last night's slaughter ; 

 With heads all aching, fever'd tongues, 

 Each bawls with all that's left of lungs 



For Jubber's* soda water. 

 And some, all pale and languid stroll, 

 To whom fair learning doth unroll 



Her hallowed, choicest page ; 

 While others to each folly turn, 

 For these the midnight lamp doth burn, 



For these liv'd bard and sage. 



* A confectioner of well-merited celebrity, situated in the centre of the High Street. 

 Miss Jubber is a graceful, sylph-like form, and is universally considered one of the beau- 

 ties of Oxford. (Since the above was written Miss J. has entered the holy state of ma- 

 trimony.) 



