1831.] Oxford; a Poem. 421 



November ! From Bede, the transition to George the Fourth, is, it 

 must be confessed, somewhat startling. In the hands of genius, how- 

 ever, even absurdity is reconcileable with reason, and, accordingly, we 

 are indulged with the following : 



" But thou, fair Oxford, never didst thou seem 



Begirt with glory in so grand a dream, 



As when monarchial heroes graced thy town, 



With him, the princely hope of England's crown : 



A morn of June ! and, magically gay, 



A heaven of blueness to o'erarch the day, 



Whose smiles are mirror' d by that glorious street, 



Where, proudly decked, uncounted numbers meet 



Of plumed bands, whose warrior trappings shine, 



And hooded gownsmen, in majestic line 



But, lo ! he comes ! a prince before them stands, 



Hark ! to the rapture of re-echoing hands, 



And high-toned cheers that revel round his way, 



While each eye beams a patriotic ray ; 



With head uncovered, royally he smiles, 



And every heart that noble face beguiles ! 



'Tis noon 'tis night a day of grandeur spent 



In all that makes a day magnificent, 



Art, pomp, and beauty, graced by king and queen, 



With dazzling banquet to outdare the scene !" 



We are much smitten with the bold idea of " high-toned cheers revel- 

 ling round a prince's way." We w r ould give worlds to have seen and 

 heard them. They would have delighted our auricular not less than our 

 optical organs. Equally tickled are we with the notion of a " dazzling 

 banquet outdaring a scene." What an impudent ovation ! We now 

 come to a touch of sublimity, descriptive of a thunder-storm at Oxford, 

 while that city is undergoing the process of an illumination in honour 

 of the -royal visit ; immediately after which the scene shifts, and we 

 are indulged with a critical dissertation on the merits of Addison and 

 Steele the latter of whom, it seems, 



( ' Laughed at Dulness till her follies died ;" 



a palpable mistake inasmuch as they are still alive and flourishing in 

 the works of Robert Montgomery. From the days of Steele we are 

 brought down to those of Dr. Johnson, whose mien and manners are com- 

 pared to the 



" bark around some royal tree, 



Whose branches glorying in the heaven we see." 



Why, in what manner, or to what extent, Dr. Johnson's mind resembled 

 the bark of a tree, with branches glorying in 'the heavens, we cannot for 

 the life of us make out. We are also at a loss to understand the mean- 

 ing of this couplet, applied to the same individual : 



" And mixed with darkness irritably loud, 

 That came like thunder from the social cloud." 



Did any gent, ever hear can any gent, contrive to understand, what is 

 meant by the thunder of a social cloud ? To us the image is more 

 enigmatical than the riddle of the Sphynx. After Johnson comes Sid- 

 ney 



" Marcellus of his land, 

 Whom poets loved, and queens admitted grand." 



