ODE XI. On taking a Bachelor's Degree.
In allusion to Horace. Book iii, Ode 30.
Exegi monumentum ære perennius, &c.
'Tis done:—I tow'r to that degree,
And catch such heav'nly fire,
That Horace ne'er could rant like me,
Nor is
King's-chapel higher.
My name in sure recording page
Shall time itself o'erpow'r,
If no rude mice with envious rage
The buttery books devour.
A
title too with added grace,
My name shall now attend,
Till to the church with silent pace
A nymph and priest ascend.
Ev'n in the schools I now rejoice,
Where late I shook with fear,
Nor heed the
Moderator's voice
Loud thund'ring in my ear.
Then with
Æolian flute I blow
A soft Italian lay,
Or where
Cam's scanty waters flow,
Releas'd from lectures, stray.
Meanwhile, friend
Banks, my merits claim
Their just reward from you,
For Horace bids us
challenge fame,
When once that fame's our due,
Invest me with a graduate's gown,
Midst shouts of all beholders,
My head with ample square-cap crown,
And deck with hood my shoulders.
Cambridge.
B. A.
