28

THE DEATH OF CHATTERTON.

I feel the poison flowing through each throbbing vein-
I am dying quickly-death puts an end to pain.
'After death the judgment—where have I heard that said?
And is there then no rest for living or for dead?

I hear a voice close to me, and it seems to say,
'Trust in thy God, be patient, and arise and pray.'
I have trusted in God, but He has left me now;
And I have been patient, though my aching brow
Throbbed for a little rest-and I have found it now.
My mother, O my mother! and O my sister dear!
You alone have loved me—if you saw me lying here!—
God forgive me!-Keep them off!-Save me from this

death!"

He spake, and with a sob he rendered up his breath.

CHRIST'S COLL. CAMB.,

X. Y. B.

he bree Freshmen.

HREE freshmen went loafing out into the High,
Out into the High, as the sun went down;

Each thought on his waistcoat and gorgeous tie;
And the nursemaids stood watching them all the way down.
For men won't work, and their mothers must weep,
For nothing they earn, and their ticks run deep,
Though the College Dons be moaning.

Three townsmen met them near Magdalen Tower;
And the freshmen came up, and the sun went down;
And a battle ensued for the space of an hour,
And a bull-dog came running up, breathless and blown.

For when townsmen meet gownsmen there's always a riot,
And bull-dogs come sudden, some mischief to spy out,
While the College Dons are moaning.

VOL. VII.

C

30

30

THE THREE FRESHMEN.

The Proctors came up in their shining bands,

And they asked them their names, and they sent them down,
And their mothers are weeping and wringing their hands,
For those who will never come back to the town.

For men go to grief and their mothers must pay,
And the sooner its over the better for they;
So good bye to the Dons and their moaning.

Winter.

Y the fire the good man sitteth,
Joyful in its warmth and light,
By the fire the good wife knitteth
This wintry night.

All without the keen wind howleth,
And a sigh in air doth heave;
In the court the watch-dog growleth,
This winter's eve.

Now no more the meadow bloometh,
Nor doth the sun earth-warming shine;
From afar old Winter cometh,

Song,

TO THE TUNE OF TENNYSON'S "HOME THEY BROUGHT HER WARRIOR DEAD."

General Hill fell in the battle before Petersburg, and was the last man buried with military honours on the eve of the evacuation.

BAY the stern old warrior down,
Deeply in his narrow bed,

Ere the conqueror sack the town,

Ere the foeman o'er him tread.

They who checked the battle-tide

Hoary warriors weeping said, "Foremost where the bravest died,

Foremost where his country bled."