The complete poetical works of Thomas Campbell Oxford edition: Edited, with notes by J. Logie Robertson |
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DESCRIPTION OF PRIZE-DAY (MAY 1st)
IN GLASGOW COLLEGE |
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 | The complete poetical works of Thomas Campbell |  |
DESCRIPTION OF PRIZE-DAY (MAY 1st) IN GLASGOW COLLEGE
Phoebus has risen, and many a glittering ray
Diffuses splendour o'er the auspicious day.
This is the day—sure Nature well may smile—
When present glory crowns forgotten toil,
When honour lifts aloft the happy few,
And laurelled worth attracts the wondering view.
Diffuses splendour o'er the auspicious day.
This is the day—sure Nature well may smile—
When present glory crowns forgotten toil,
When honour lifts aloft the happy few,
And laurelled worth attracts the wondering view.
The appointed hour that warns to meet is near;
A mixed assemblage on the Green appear;
Some in gay clubs, and some in pairs advance;
An hundred busy tongues are heard at once. . . .
A mixed assemblage on the Green appear;
Some in gay clubs, and some in pairs advance;
An hundred busy tongues are heard at once. . . .
At last the doors unfold: fast, fast within
Compacted numbers rush with bustling din . . .
Now up the stairs ascend the jarring crew,
And the long hall is opened to the view;
There, on the left, the pulpit clad in green,
And there the bench of dignity is seen
Where wisdom sits with equitable sway
To judge the important merits of the day.
Compacted numbers rush with bustling din . . .
Now up the stairs ascend the jarring crew,
And the long hall is opened to the view;
There, on the left, the pulpit clad in green,
And there the bench of dignity is seen
Where wisdom sits with equitable sway
To judge the important merits of the day.
The doors are fastened; silence reigns within;
Now, memorable day, thy joys begin. . . .
See yon bright store of volumes in a row
Where gold and Turkey's gayest colours glow!
The first, the brightest, volume's reared on high;
Probando, prince of youths, is bid draw nigh;
The youth draws nigh, and, hailed with loud applause,
Receives the boon, and modestly withdraws. . . .
Tonillus next is summoned from the throng;
His head light tosses as he moves along:
No mean reward is his,—but why so vain?
What means that strutting gait, that crested mane?
Away with all thy light affected airs!
For honour vanishes when pride appears.
The third gay glittering volume high is reared—
Mysterious Jove! Plumbano's name is heard!
With lazy step the loiterer quits his place
(While wonder gazes in each length of face),
Accepts the gift with stinted scrape and nod,
And slow returns with an unworthy load. . . .
Merit is brought to light, before unknown—
Ah! merit truly, had it been his own! . . .
Now, memorable day, thy joys begin. . . .
358
Where gold and Turkey's gayest colours glow!
The first, the brightest, volume's reared on high;
Probando, prince of youths, is bid draw nigh;
The youth draws nigh, and, hailed with loud applause,
Receives the boon, and modestly withdraws. . . .
Tonillus next is summoned from the throng;
His head light tosses as he moves along:
No mean reward is his,—but why so vain?
What means that strutting gait, that crested mane?
Away with all thy light affected airs!
For honour vanishes when pride appears.
The third gay glittering volume high is reared—
Mysterious Jove! Plumbano's name is heard!
With lazy step the loiterer quits his place
(While wonder gazes in each length of face),
Accepts the gift with stinted scrape and nod,
And slow returns with an unworthy load. . . .
Merit is brought to light, before unknown—
Ah! merit truly, had it been his own! . . .
Thick pass the honoured victors of the day,—
Ingenio shrewd, and Alacer the gay,
Durando grave, Acerrimo the wit,
Profundo serious with his eyebrows knit.
Countless they pass; applauded, each returns,
While o'er his cheek the conscious pleasure burns.
Meanwhile I see each one a joy impart
To some glad father's, friend's, or brother's heart . . .
Ingenio shrewd, and Alacer the gay,
Durando grave, Acerrimo the wit,
Profundo serious with his eyebrows knit.
Countless they pass; applauded, each returns,
While o'er his cheek the conscious pleasure burns.
Meanwhile I see each one a joy impart
To some glad father's, friend's, or brother's heart . . .
| The complete poetical works of Thomas Campbell | |