An Imitation of Horace's First Epistle Written and Printed at Trinity College, Cambridge, in the Year 1793 [by C. V. Le Grice] |
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 | An Imitation of Horace's First Epistle |  |
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HOS MEMINISSE JUVAT.
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IMITATION OF HORACE.
1 EPIST. BOOK 1.
My honest, and my good friend, Will,
Who knows't my Muse has worn her quill
With verses bad, for which that rudis
(Whose name to boyish ear so crude is)
Has often crossed my back at school,
Why wish me now to play the fool?
Mendoza after many a heating
Fears lest the last should prove a beating:
Besides, a veteran friend has chid me
“Beware of Pegasus: if you please,
“Mount: but you're sure to break his knees.’
Rhymes, verses, then, and all such things
I leave to drolls, and Chinese Kings.
Who knows't my Muse has worn her quill
With verses bad, for which that rudis
(Whose name to boyish ear so crude is)
Has often crossed my back at school,
Why wish me now to play the fool?
Mendoza after many a heating
Fears lest the last should prove a beating:
Besides, a veteran friend has chid me
“Beware of Pegasus: if you please,
“Mount: but you're sure to break his knees.’
Rhymes, verses, then, and all such things
I leave to drolls, and Chinese Kings.
All that is serious and good
Is now my literary food;
And stores I'm hoarding every day
In case they're drawn upon in May
Perhaps you'll ask “quo duce utor,”
And who's my Mathematic Tutor;
Agnipedes. At ten o'clock
My knuckles at his out-door knock.
Is now my literary food;
And stores I'm hoarding every day
In case they're drawn upon in May
Perhaps you'll ask “quo duce utor,”
And who's my Mathematic Tutor;
Agnipedes. At ten o'clock
My knuckles at his out-door knock.
Still my attendance is not such
But that at Politics I touch,
And thrice a week Lloyd's Evening Post
Conveys me news from t'other coast
Of what the Sans-culottes are doing
In all the happiness of ruin.
And now and then I take a trip,
As Horace wont to Aristip,
(Thy follower, O Epicure,)
To laugh with H. in Petty Curie.
But that at Politics I touch,
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Conveys me news from t'other coast
Of what the Sans-culottes are doing
In all the happiness of ruin.
And now and then I take a trip,
As Horace wont to Aristip,
(Thy follower, O Epicure,)
To laugh with H. in Petty Curie.
But as to Lover sad bewailing
While up and down the street he's trailing,
And all most piteously complaining,
While it most piteously is raining,
The night seems long: so each hour drags on
While the poor Freshman funks, and fags on,
Till that dread day, when every Sizar
With golden gowns for honors tries, Sir.
For this day, as there's no refusing,
The Elements I'm hard perusing.
What tho' this road I ever travel
And never should o'ertake a Tavel,
Yet now and then, by way of vomit,
I take a little Trigonomet
ry, and bring my heated brain
To plane and level thoughts again.
Of angles, secants, tangents, sines,
Such various powers of various lines
In magic Ludlam may be had,
As make mad sound, and sound men mad.
Into this Astrologic book
Magicians very soon shall look;
Each ass then, when his fate appears,
Shall hear his doom, and drop his ears.
While up and down the street he's trailing,
And all most piteously complaining,
While it most piteously is raining,
The night seems long: so each hour drags on
While the poor Freshman funks, and fags on,
Till that dread day, when every Sizar
With golden gowns for honors tries, Sir.
For this day, as there's no refusing,
The Elements I'm hard perusing.
What tho' this road I ever travel
And never should o'ertake a Tavel,
Yet now and then, by way of vomit,
I take a little Trigonomet
ry, and bring my heated brain
To plane and level thoughts again.
Of angles, secants, tangents, sines,
Such various powers of various lines
In magic Ludlam may be had,
As make mad sound, and sound men mad.
Into this Astrologic book
Magicians very soon shall look;
Each ass then, when his fate appears,
Shall hear his doom, and drop his ears.
A proverb, not less true than old,
Says “small change ever yields to gold,”
“Merit to both.” Whoe'er you meet
From Trumpington to Andrew's Street
Will cry, I grant the man has nous,
But, pray, who values this a louse?
Has plenty too of Greek and Latin;
What then?—His breeches are not satin.
He's very good, and very steady;
Granted, my friend: but where's his Ready?
His Merit's great: I'm sure you lie, Sir,
I tell you he is but a Sizar.
Let him, who'd have his virtues known,
With golden trappings deck his gown;
Then ev'ry one shall view his lace,
And swear he's clever by his face.—
Says “small change ever yields to gold,”
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From Trumpington to Andrew's Street
Will cry, I grant the man has nous,
But, pray, who values this a louse?
Has plenty too of Greek and Latin;
What then?—His breeches are not satin.
He's very good, and very steady;
Granted, my friend: but where's his Ready?
His Merit's great: I'm sure you lie, Sir,
I tell you he is but a Sizar.
Let him, who'd have his virtues known,
With golden trappings deck his gown;
Then ev'ry one shall view his lace,
And swear he's clever by his face.—
The little boys at school will say
“The cleverest shall rule the play:”
“T' have robb'd no orchard, done no evil,
“Like brazen wall will keep the devil
“From ent'ring in.”—Come, come to College,
Ye silly boys, and mend your knowledge.—
'Tis common talk to say that you,
My friend, should act as others do,
Who live within the self-same wall,
And eat within the self-same hall.
To such I answer cast your eye on
The fable of the Fox and Lion;
Full many of our bucks so stout
Get into jail, but few get out.
“The cleverest shall rule the play:”
“T' have robb'd no orchard, done no evil,
“Like brazen wall will keep the devil
“From ent'ring in.”—Come, come to College,
Ye silly boys, and mend your knowledge.—
'Tis common talk to say that you,
My friend, should act as others do,
Who live within the self-same wall,
And eat within the self-same hall.
To such I answer cast your eye on
The fable of the Fox and Lion;
Full many of our bucks so stout
Get into jail, but few get out.
This will-o'wisp of night and day
Who'd follow to be led astray?
Fashion, whose various change of names
The hydra-headed phasm proclaims:
Now She's the Tip, the Stare, the Gaze,
And now the Thing, the Flame, the Blaze;
Now She's the Whip, and takes a jig
With Billy Whip-cord in a gig:
And now again She's all the Flog,
And sports a nag to Gogmagog:
And now She's grown the very Kick,
And down-stairs helps to throw a Tick.
Now with some spark She'll take a cutter.
And sail down Cam's smooth flowing gutter,
And there full gallantly glide on
Till landed safe at Chesterton,
Where sporting, billiards, bowls, and tea,
Cries Fashion, “Who so great as We?”
Another up to town She takes
And there right joyously he rakes;
In ruin's high-road posts smack dash on,
Because, Gadzooks, it is the Fashion.
See one, who sports a good warm house
And eke a comfortable spouse,
Says, Life has nothing that can please him,
A fellow-ship perhaps might ease him;
The Fellow swears upon his life
He'll wed—a fashionable wife.—
Laugh on, my, friend, both poor and rich
Have got the fashionable itch.
E'en Sizars sport their nag, and boat,
Their every-day, and Sunday coat;
Give sizings of delicious gammon
Of bacon. or of pickled salmon:
And sit in magisterial state
To quaff their morning chocolate:
Tasting like Liliputian Kings
The luxury of little things.
Who'd follow to be led astray?
Fashion, whose various change of names
The hydra-headed phasm proclaims:
Now She's the Tip, the Stare, the Gaze,
And now the Thing, the Flame, the Blaze;
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With Billy Whip-cord in a gig:
And now again She's all the Flog,
And sports a nag to Gogmagog:
And now She's grown the very Kick,
And down-stairs helps to throw a Tick.
Now with some spark She'll take a cutter.
And sail down Cam's smooth flowing gutter,
And there full gallantly glide on
Till landed safe at Chesterton,
Where sporting, billiards, bowls, and tea,
Cries Fashion, “Who so great as We?”
Another up to town She takes
And there right joyously he rakes;
In ruin's high-road posts smack dash on,
Because, Gadzooks, it is the Fashion.
See one, who sports a good warm house
And eke a comfortable spouse,
Says, Life has nothing that can please him,
A fellow-ship perhaps might ease him;
The Fellow swears upon his life
He'll wed—a fashionable wife.—
Laugh on, my, friend, both poor and rich
Have got the fashionable itch.
E'en Sizars sport their nag, and boat,
Their every-day, and Sunday coat;
Give sizings of delicious gammon
Of bacon. or of pickled salmon:
And sit in magisterial state
To quaff their morning chocolate:
Tasting like Liliputian Kings
The luxury of little things.
If half en queue and half a crop
Into your presence I should pop,
If half the rags of half my gown
Their brother raglings should disown,
You'd smile:—then lustily you'd laugh
To see me every thing by half:
To see me gambling, raking, drinking,
And doing every thing, but—thinking.
Senior of Wranglers! day and night
Into your presence I should pop,
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Their brother raglings should disown,
You'd smile:—then lustily you'd laugh
To see me every thing by half:
To see me gambling, raking, drinking,
And doing every thing, but—thinking.
Beam forth in thy auspicious light!
Thou Son of Cambridge, Good and Fair,
With thee what mortal can compare?
Thee, Thee I'll follow; thee adore:
No mortal Thou, except when o'er
Some problem stiff—your eyes are sore.
C. V. L. G.
| An Imitation of Horace's First Epistle | |