A CAMBRIDGE ALPHABET.

17

M stands for the "Muckers" you'll make in the Senate

House.

N stands for the "Not-to-be-got," as then you rack your

nous.

O stands for the "Opal " that decks the 'xaminer's hand.
P stands for the Plaudits that hail the 'Varsity band.
Q stands for the "Q'ish" swells who keep at Trin. Coll.
Cam.

R stands for the Rigid Rules made for each Cantab lamb.
S stands for the Syndicate which says if you may pass.
T stands for your Tutor kind who styles you quite an ass.
U stands for the "Ugly Uns," as townsmen call your blows.
V stands for your Very true, who sadly binds your nose.
W stands for the "Wrow" 'twixt "Gown and Town”

last night.

X stands for your lame "Xcuse" for being in the fight. Y stands for the Yly Duns who eye you from afar.

Z stands for the Zeus-like Dons you'll see at Coll. !— ha ha!!

CLARE COLL., CAMBRIDGE.

E. H. R.

"There is a tide in the affairs of men

Which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune :
Omitted, all the voyage of their life

Is bound in shallows and in miseries.

On such a full sea are we now afloat,

And we must take the current when it serves,
Or lose our ventures."

JULIUS CAESAR.

N Life's broad sea there flows a tide,
Wherein her vessels safely ride,

No need of oar or sail :

Calm sleeps the wave upon her breast
In deathlike motionless unrest,

And softly blows the gale.

With easy flow the current leads

Where Fortune spreads her verdant meads In realms of Peace afar;

Where Fame's stupendous temples stand

Gold beacons on the Siren-land

An all-bewitching star.

Pilot, rejoice! thy work is done;
Thy bark's endangered course is run :
Within the harbour steer,

And anchor near yon peaceful shore
Nor dread the tempest's anger more,
Nor seething billows fear.

But if thou fail this tide to gain,
How changed the aspect of the main !
How vain the helmsman's art!

Fruitless the bellying sail is rent,
Fruitless the creaking oar is bent,

And useless is the chart.

Louder and louder hiss the waves,
Shrill roar the blasts from Envy's caves-
The vessel heaves and rolls.

Now shattered see her rudder beat

Upon the quicksands of Deceit,

Or Falsehood's bitter shoals.

Now grates the prow with sudden shock
On Hatred's unforgiving rock-

Beneath yawns Shame's abyss!

What though the wished-for land be nigh? Blast, tide, and surge approach defy

To seek its mysteries.

Or if at length thou hap to feel
The hoarseness of the scraping keel,

And Hope comes present there;
Back leaps the ebbing wave in haste
To draw thee towards the gaping waste,
To face again Despair.

Such is the fruitless toil and strife,
When lost the favouring tide of life:
'Tis war 'tween life and death-
Until at length thy bark is hurled
In whirlpools of another world

Eternity beneath.

OXFORD.

LACRYMA.

HE morn of life is bright and gay :

Grief like a spectre far

Is scarce in distance seen.

away

Her shadowy form in vapour dressed
On youth's horizon seems to rest,
So smiling and serene.

For life, that like a crested wave
Moves ever onward to the grave,

In baby-smiles began.
Once but a ripple on the shore,
Its voice a murmur, nothing more,

Unlike the speech of man.