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IIBRARY 
 
 ir^IVERSITY Of 
 CALIFORNIA 
 
CONGRATULATORY ADDRESSES 
 
 RECITED IN 
 
 THE THEATRE, OXFORD, 
 
 AT 
 
 THE INSTALLATION 
 
 OF 
 
 THE RIGHT HON. 
 
 TBE EAEL OF DERBY, 
 
 CHANCELLOR OF THE UNIVERSITY, 
 M Dccc mi. 
 
 i 
 
 OXFORD J 
 
 PRINTED AND PUBLISHED BY J. VINCENT. 
 1853. 
 
LOAN STACK 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 
 English ... T. L. CLAUGHTON, Trinity College 
 
 (Professor of Poetry) ... ... pao« 6 
 
 Greek ... C. GRIFFITH, Wadham CoUege ... 10 
 
 Latin ... J. A. ATKINSON, Exeter College ... 13 
 
 English ... W. ALEXANDER, New Inn Hall ... 16 
 
 Greek ... R. S. FALCON, Queen's College ... 21 
 
 Latin ... LIONEL DAWSON DAMER, Trinity College 24 
 
 English ... EDWIN ARNOLD, University College ... 27 
 
 Greek ... F. W. WALKER, B.A., Corpus Christi College 31 
 
 English ... EDWARD C. D. BELL, Balliol College 32 
 
 Latin ... ROBERT BOW N AS WORMALD, Lincoln 
 
 College ... ... ... ... 35 
 
 Greek ... R. N. SANDERSON, Magdalen Hall ... 37 
 
 English ... WILLIAM ALLAN RUSSELL, B.A., Mag. 
 
 dalenHall 38 
 
 987 
 
As when, a Mother home from some far clime 
 
 Welcomes her Son, 
 "Who in the strife of men for masteries 
 By bold advent'rous deeds of high emprize 
 Hath well fulfilled the promise of his prime — 
 Ev'n thus Oxonia welcomes back to day 
 With plaudits loud and pomp and bright array, 
 One who her fairest meed of praise hath won. 
 — Skilful ere while to weave the flowers of song. 
 He wand'ring woo'd with soft Virgilian strains^ 
 Isis, thy pleasant fields and groves among, 
 
 The tuneful Nine ; 
 And, duteous, offer'd here at Learning's shrine 
 The first-fruits of his sweet Poetic pains. 
 
 But these delights his ardent soul forbore : 
 
 Full well he knew 
 That whoso would achieve a nobler prize 
 And wield a mighty Nation's destinies. 
 From heights serene the world's vast field must view ; 
 Dwell with the pure and just in every age. 
 Drink in their burning words ; in Hist'ry's page 
 The wide far-stretching wondrous Past explore ; 
 Men, maxims, countries, laws therewith compare ; 
 
 .9 
 
6 
 
 Trace in th' ungovern'd heart's deprav'd desires 
 
 The wasting fires 
 That desolated cities great and fair ; 
 In peaceful happy states progressive see 
 The glorious dawn of Truth and Liberty. 
 
 Nor yet alone within these ancient walls 
 
 Learnt he this lore ; 
 For ere he left his old ancestral halls, 
 Hung round with portraits of the good and great, 
 Who in the storied ages long before 
 Imperill'd lands and life for England's state ; 
 Beheld from donjon keep and turret hoar 
 Spears wave like corn, and streams run red with gore — 
 Oft, as from honoured lips their praise he heard, 
 
 A spirit stirr*d 
 Within his youthful breast ; he felt the fire 
 Kindle through all his veins, the strong desire 
 To live as they had liv'd, for truth and good, 
 To strive as they had striv'n, ev'n unto blood. 
 
 For who of Stanley's line could ere forget 
 
 That woful day, 
 Remember'd still in many a mournful lay. 
 When Derby's Earl through Bolton's thronged street 
 On a vile palfrey rode, that death to meet, 
 Which he had courted oft on fields of strife. 
 The Patriot's meed and crown. Ears tingle yet 
 To hear his words, the last on earth he spoke 
 
 Ere fell the stroke 
 Which tore that noble heart from Love and Life. 
 Thus sang the Martyr, as his failing eye 
 Sought still, through Death's dark mist, God's Sanctuary. 
 
^* Praised be His Holy Name for ever and ever. Amen. 
 Let the whole Earth be filled with His Glory." • 
 
 And where was she, thy mate and true compeer,* 
 
 When thou to God 
 Didst render up thy soul and kiss the rod ? 
 In lonely sea-girt Isle afar she sate 
 Waiting the dreary tidings of thy fate ; 
 Hemm'd in with traitors, full of Grief and Fear — 
 Not as when erst in Lathom's leaguer'd tower, 
 Knowing that God could curb unrighteous power, 
 Unmov'd she heard the storm of battle roar ! 
 The winds that whisper'd round the citadel — 
 The waves that rippled on the rocky shore — 
 
 The sea bird's shriek 
 Had something in its tone, that seem*d to tell 
 How Traitors on her Lord their wrath did wreak. 
 
 Shades of the mighty Dead I 
 
 If in those spheres sublime 
 Where spirits rest from earthly toil and care^ 
 
 Some dim and distant sense 
 
 Of mortal hopes and fears 
 Thrills through the peaceful mansions of the blest — 
 
 * Last words of the Great Earl of Derby, on the scaffold at Bolton- 
 le-Moors, Oct. 15, 1651, after he had caused the block to be so turned 
 that his face should look toward the Church, saying, '^ I will look 
 toward Thy Sanctuary while I am here ; and I hope to lire in Thy 
 Hearenly Sanctuary for ever hereafter." 
 
 *> Charlotte de la Tremouille, Countess of Derby ; who, at the tima 
 of her husband's death, was with her children in the Isle of Man. 
 
 b2 
 
If, as on Earth we trace 
 
 Through azure fields of light 
 The swift-revolving courses of the stars — 
 
 So souls that dwell apart 
 
 In mirrors clear behold 
 The ever varying phase of human destiny — 
 
 What sweeter purer joy 
 
 Can blessed spirits know, 
 Than when the children of the wise and good 
 
 Walking in Holy Truth, 
 
 By pious upright deeds 
 Recall the glorious Past, and emulate their Sires ? 
 
 Hail we then now in Oxford's honour'd Lord, 
 
 Great Derby's Heir, 
 The virtues that adorn'd his Patriot sire ! 
 And now, O Pow'r unseen, our song inspire 1 
 The Fear of God alone to be adored — ■ 
 The Love of man, that spurns ignoble pelf, 
 Regarding others ever more than self — 
 
 Honour, as fair 
 As Virgin Purity ; — Courage, as bold 
 As that which mark'd the Eagle's Race* of old — 
 Eloquent words, to plead the righteous cause — 
 Zeal, to maintain his Country's sacred laws — 
 And that which, lacking, marreth all renown. 
 Firm loyalty to hee who wears the Crown. 
 
 Such be thy sons, Oxonia ! such is he 
 
 Whom we to day 
 * Alluding to the legend of the Eagle and Child in the Stanley Family. 
 
At this our high and solemn festival, 
 
 With honour due to worth, as Lord install. 
 
 Go forth ! again thy strength in arms essay, 
 
 True Heir of England's old Nobility ! 
 
 None worthier found in all the land than thou 
 
 To wear the Coronet that decks thy brow ! 
 
 We give thee weapons, tried and prov'd, to wield- 
 
 Go forth, with this emblazon'd on thy shield, 
 
 " God is our Light." 
 Bear in thy hand, sharper than two-edg'd sword, 
 The open volume of His written word — 
 Go forth and prosper ! God defend the right I 
 
Sa/i€pov ttap cvKcXaSots j^oaio'iv 
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11 
 
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12 
 
 Ttv S' orav yipovTi Mopos TroTiKcrji 
 aovx(a pdciiy {to h\ S17V dTrctiy,) 
 OTci/'o/iACS Kttt rev ra<t>ov €vXvpoL<TLv 
 
 avOecTL MoLO-av, 
 
 C.^Gbiffith, 
 
 Q Coll. Wadham^ 
 
£rgo tumultus Urbis, et anxia 
 Deliberantis munia curiae, 
 Paullum remisisti, et labores 
 Legiferos, populique curam ; 
 Feliciori redditus omirie, 
 Isin revisis prataque conscia, 
 Urbisque turritam coronam 
 Fieri 83, latebrasque amaenas. 
 Salve ! vetustae progenies domus ! 
 Salve ! paterni gloria nominis ! 
 Qui gentis antiquos honores 
 Egregiae egregior reportas. 
 le Musa sacris laeta recessibus, 
 Lyra salutat, te reducem colit, 
 Pompamque festinat superbam 
 Lesbiaco decorare caritii. — 
 Te fronde cinctum tempora Delphic a, 
 Inter catervas laude faventium, 
 Testes SyracussB beatam * 
 Carminis abripuisse palmam. 
 Olim juventas primitias tuae 
 Mater fovebat, nunc eadem parat 
 
 * The Earl of Derby gained the Latin Prize Poem Syracuse, 
 1819. 
 
14 
 
 Gratata Rectoris supremam 
 Pro meritis Rhedycina sedem. 
 Haud terruerunt te moderamina 
 Commissa rerum, quominus impert 
 Navem gubernares per undas 
 Incolumi sine fraude cursu : 
 Leges iniquas, auspiciis tuis, 
 Contaminato justitiae sinu, 
 Longasque lites abrogari 
 
 Vidimus, insidiasque juris. — 
 Tu cautus idem, ne (grave dedecus) 
 Insultet agris turma Britannicis 
 Externa, conscriptas phalanges 
 Praesidium patriae dedisti. 
 Ergo intuentes mentem adamantinsl 
 Fide tenacem, credidimus tibi 
 Claves potestatemque nostri 
 Liminis, ingenuosque fasces- 
 Hie tu refulgens murice vestium, 
 Edvarde, sedem praecipuam tenes, 
 Quam fama Virtutis f prioris, 
 Immeritssque mori sacravit. 
 O si diu nos nobilitas tua, 
 Constansque pectus servet in arduis, 
 Vocisque facundse canorum 
 Fulminet eloquium, peracto 
 Belli tumultu, nostraque vindicet 
 Ab ingruenti jura periculo, 
 Salvaque libertate plebis 
 
 Comprimat illicitos furores — 
 
 t William Wyndham, Lord Grenville, Chancellor, 1809. 
 Arthur, Duke of Wellington, Chancellor, 1834. 
 
15 
 
 Doctrina nobis, te duce, Isetius 
 Artesque surgant : Anglia te diu 
 Inter Camaenarum patronos 
 Unanimo veneretur ore. 
 
 Jacobus Augustus Atkinson, 
 
 e Coll. Exon. 
 
1 had been thinking of the antique masque 
 Before high Peers and Peeresses at Court, 
 Of the strong gracefulness of Milton's task, 
 
 ' Rare Ben's * gigantic sport. 
 Those delicate creations, full of strange 
 And perilous stuff, wherein the silver flood 
 And crowned city sufFer'd human change, 
 
 Like things of flesh and blood. 
 And I was longing for a hand like those 
 Somewhere in bowers of learning's fine retreat, 
 That it might fling immortally one rose 
 
 At Stanley's honored feet : — 
 lPair as that woman, whom the prophet old 
 In Ardath met, lamenting for her dead. 
 With sackcloth cast above the tiar of gold. 
 
 And ashes on her head, 
 Methought I met a Lady yestereven ; 
 A passionless grief, that had nor tear nor wail. 
 Sat on her pure proud face, that gleam'd to Heaven, 
 
 White as a moon-lit sail. 
 She spake : ** On this pale brow are looks of youth. 
 Yet angels listening on the argent floor 
 Know that these lips have been proclaiming truth, 
 
 Nine hundred years and more : 
 
17 
 
 *' And Isis knows what time-grey towers rear'd up. 
 Gardens and groves and cloister'd halls are mine, 
 Where quaff my sons from many a myrrliine cup 
 
 Draughts of ambrosial wine. 
 ** He knows how night by night my lamps are lit, 
 How day by day my bells are ringing clear, 
 Mother of ancient lore, and Attic wit, 
 
 And discipline severe. 
 '* It may be long ago my dizzied brain 
 Enchanted swam beneath Rome's master spell. 
 Till like light tinctured by the painted pane 
 
 Thought in her colours fell. 
 " Yet when the great old tongue with strong effect 
 Woke from its sepulchre accross the sea. 
 The subtler spell of Grecian intellect 
 
 Work'd mightily in me. 
 ** Time pass'd — my groves were full of warlike stirs 5 
 The student's heart was with the merry spears. 
 Or keeping measure to the clanking spurs 
 
 Of Rupert's Cavaliers. 
 '* All these long ages, like a holy mother 
 I rear'd my children to a lore sublime. 
 Picking up fairer shells than any other 
 
 Along the shores of Time. 
 " And must I speak at last of sensual sleep, 
 The dull forgetfulness of aimless years ? 
 O, let me turn away my head and weep 
 
 Than Rachel's bitterer tears. 
 " Tears for the passionate hearts I might have won, 
 Tears for the age with which I might have striven, 
 Tears for a hundred years of work undone, 
 Crying like blood to Heaven. 
 
18 
 
 ** I have repented, and my glorious name 
 
 Stands scutcheon' d round with blazonry more bright. 
 
 The withered rod, the emblem of my shame, 
 
 Bloom'd blossoms in a night. 
 " And I have led my children on steep mountain! 
 By fine attraction of my spirit brought 
 Up to the dark inexplicable fountains 
 
 That are the springs of thought : 
 " Led them — where on the old poetic shore 
 The flowers that change not with the changing moon, 
 Breathe round young hearts, as breathes the sycamore 
 
 About the bees in June. 
 " And I will bear them as on eagle's wings, 
 To leave them bow'd before the sapphire Throne, 
 High o'er the haunts where dying pleasure sings 
 
 With sweet and swanlike tone. 
 '* And I will lead the age's great expansions, 
 Progressive circles toward thought's Sabbath rest, 
 And point beyond them to the ** many mansions" 
 
 Where Christ is with the blest. 
 ** Am I not pledged, who gave my bridal ring 
 To that old man heroic, strong, and true, 
 Whose grey-hair*d virtue was a nobler thing 
 
 Than even Waterloo ? 
 ** Surely that spousal morn my chosen ones 
 Felt their hearts moving to mysterious calls, 
 And the old pictures of my sainted sons 
 
 Look'd brighter from the walls 
 ** He sleeps at last — no wind's tempestuous breath 
 Play'd a Dead March upon the moaning billow, 
 What time God's Angel visited with death 
 
 The old Field Marshal's pillow. 
 
19 
 
 " There was no omen of a great disaster 
 Where castled Walmer stands beside the shore ; 
 The evening clouds, like pillar'd alabaster, 
 Hung huge and silent o*er. 
 
 ** The moon in brightness walk'd the * fleecy rack/ 
 Walk'd up and down among the starry fires, 
 Heaven's great cathedral was not hung with black 
 Up to its topmost spires ! 
 
 " But mine own Isis kept a solemn chiming, 
 A silver Requiescat all night long. 
 And mine old trees, with all their leaves, were timing 
 The sorrow of the song. 
 
 ** And through mine angel-haunted aisles of beauty 
 From grand old organs gush'd a music dim. 
 Lauds for a champion who had done his duty. 
 I knew they were for him ! 
 
 " But night is'fading — I must deck my hair 
 For the high pageant of the gladsome morn 
 I would not meet my chosen Stanley there 
 In sorrow or in scorn. 
 
 ** I know him nobler than his noble blood, 
 Seeking for wisdom as the earth's best pearl, 
 And bring my brightest jewelry to stud 
 The baldrick of mine Earl. 
 
 ** I and my children with our fairest gift. 
 With song will meet him and with music's swell. 
 The coronal a king might love to lift 
 It will beseem him well. 
 
20 
 
 ** And "when the influx of the perilous fight 
 Shall be around us as a troubled sea, 
 He will remember, like a red-cross knight, 
 God, and this day, and me." 
 
 W. Alexander, S.C.L., 
 
 New Inn Hall.. 
 
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^2 
 
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 Kal TU)V TToXaiiav OeafJLicav icrOXbv o"e)Sa9, 
 
 (1) It is said that the elements will not rest while a great man 
 remains unburied. 
 
23 
 
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 •aet 7rpod^€t fxao-aov cvccrro) ^iAt^v. 
 
 R. S. Falcon, B.A., 
 
 e Coll. Reg. 
 
 c2 
 
** Dignum laude virum Musa vetat mori/' 
 
 Musae, sacrati numina verticis, 
 Fontisque amantes Naiadum chori, 
 Quotquot fatigatos labore 
 Pieria recreatis umbra, 
 Si cara vobis, ut prius, indoles 
 Kutrita vestris sub penetralibus, 
 Si cara virtus, atque fama 
 
 Nominis intemerata magni, 
 Adeste cunctae : dicite, *frigidas 
 Quae mox ad aures aetheris exeant, 
 Spirentque pendentem per orbem 
 Socraticis iteranda turbis. 
 Jampridem acerbis victa doloribus 
 Maeret peremptum Patria principem ; 
 Imosque Musarum recessus 
 
 Propter, arundineasque ripas, 
 Virtus, corona cincta cupressind, 
 Late querelis fiebilibus gemit, 
 
 Ceu msesta per sylvas procella, 
 Vel gemitus maris inquieti. 
 Nunc Hora vanis parcere fletibus, 
 Finemque jussit tristitiae dare ; 
 Nunc aura ridentis Favoni 
 Frigoribus rediit solutis 
 Salve ! fidelis dux patriae, et memor 
 
 * ** Sung into the cold ears of the stars. ^'.— Alexander Smith. 
 
25 
 
 In hac adultae sede puertias, 
 
 Quas ipse, nee frustra, colebas, 
 
 Thespiadum accipias honorem. 
 Te nostra, fgrata cui juvenilia 
 Cingebat olim tempera laurea, 
 Majore donandum corona 
 
 Nunc iterum revocavit Isis: 
 Nee vana tantis auspiciis fides : 
 Quippe et futurse praescia glorias, 
 Laus ista praedixit sequendos 
 Fulgidiore rota triumphos. 
 Tu, quum senatus corda labantia 
 Diu paverent ancipiti metu 
 Per dura fulsisti pericia 
 
 Praesidium columenque rerum. 
 Sic nauta, diris multum Aquilonibus 
 Caliginosa nocte per Adriam 
 
 Jactatus, optati per umbram 
 Sideris, auspicium salutat. 
 O disciplinae fautor, et artium, 
 Turbas furentes eloquio potens 
 Torquere, civilesque motus 
 Consilio cohibere justo 
 Diu, precamur, dux bone, laurea 
 Frontem coronet, Thespiadum decus, 
 Diuque per terras, ad ortum 
 Solis ab Hesperio cubili, 
 Neglecta quamvis caetera lividae 
 Obliviones undique carpserint, 
 
 + The Earl of Derby obtained one of the Chancellors > 
 Prizes at Oxford, 
 
26 
 
 ' Te principem, fidumque rebus 
 Subsidium dubiis, amicum 
 Musis, patronumque artibus, et ducem 
 Quacunque Virtus expediat viam, 
 Noscent Camoense : te, corona 
 Caeruleos redimita crines, 
 Isis, catervas inter amabiles 
 Nympharum, ab oris concinet ultimis : 
 Serique servabunt nepotes 
 
 Perpetuae monumenta laudis. 
 
 Lionel Dawson Damer, 
 
 e Coll. Trin. 
 
" BaKpvoev yeXacrda'a,'''* 
 
 Thrice welcome to the seat thy worth hath won, 
 Proud in her grief sad Isis hails her son : — 
 Welcome ! but question not the sigh that starts 
 From the sealed sorrow of a thousand hearts ;— 
 Welcome ! but ask not why in Sheldon's hall 
 The voice must faulter, and the greeting fall ; 
 Greeting as warm, and joy as deep and proud 
 As though that greeting, and that joy were loud ; 
 And faith as steadfast, love as strong we bear 
 Though Past and Present mingle smile and tear : — 
 We weave two wreaths, we twine two garlands now, 
 One of bright olive for thine honoured brow 
 And one of cypress for the mighty dust 
 Who is our Memory, as thou our Trust : — 
 And therefore mourn we, therefore we rejoice 
 Shaping glad welcomes with a saddened voice ; 
 Because to-day great Arthur's seat we see 
 Vacant of him, — held worthily of thee. 
 
 Sad and remindful task it were to say 
 What hope and gladness graced the happy day 
 When diadem'd with Victory's brightest bays 
 As Knight that entereth after Herald's praise 
 
28 
 
 Hither he came whose fame had come before 
 From Spain's sierras, and the Belgic shore, 
 When Learning's self forgetting doubt and dread 
 Unclasped the helmet from her Warrior's head, 
 Ungirt the good steel sword his thigh displayed, 
 And wiped the bloody honour from its blade : 
 Nor held unfitting, nor unworthy thought 
 The gentle work her timid fingers wrought 
 For holiest is the war that winneth Peace, 
 And best the strife that biddeth striving cease ; 
 And now ! — (alas but for our Hope in thee 
 How sad and mournful were such Memory !) 
 The sword that stayed not 'till the fight was done, 
 The heart that failed not 'tillthe right was won, 
 Firm heart and faithful sword — their work is o'er 
 And the great Captain resteth evermore. 
 
 But Peace hath victories of deed and word 
 Won with a subtler weapon than the sword, 
 And civic wreaths a greener gleam display 
 Than the stained garlands of the finished fray : 
 Peace hath her battle-fields : — where they who fight 
 Win more than honour, vanquish more than might, 
 And strive a strife against a fiercer foe 
 Than one who comes with battle-axe and bow ; 
 And this was thine : — War's tempest was away 
 Leaving thy destinies a falier day, 
 The Eagles slept, the Lion flags were furled, 
 No battle-thunder woke the weary world, 
 No Leipsic, Linden, Borodino, then 
 Stained the sweet meadows with the blood of men j 
 
2^^ 
 
 But Peace, yet bleeding from the lance of war, 
 And Trust, and Truth, and Plenty frighted far ; 
 Learning uplooking from her lettered scroll, 
 And Science starting at the drum's deep roll ; 
 And angry Justice with white spreading wings, 
 Leaving for ever Earth and Earthly things : 
 These to win back, to comfort, and to calm 
 'Till War's wild Poean sank to peaceful psalm, 
 And English homes, untenanted no more, 
 Held hopes, and loves, and laughter, as before ; 
 Senates to sway and Councillors to lead 
 With earnest eloquence, and ready deed ; 
 And sailing o'er a deep and dangerous flood 
 To watch one guiding star — thy country's good : 
 To hold to Honour for dear Honour's sake 
 *Till Faction envied what it might not shake ; 
 The right to succour and the wrong subdue, 
 This was thy triumph — this thy Waterloo : — 
 Well through that bloodless fight thy virtue bore 
 The Stanley's banner stainless as of yore ; 
 The silver shield that wears no trait'rous blot, 
 The legend of the faith that changes not.* 
 
 Once more the city of the tower and dome 
 Bids thee brave welcome to thine early home I 
 Thou hear'st from tongue to tongue the greetings borne 
 Where thy first laurel wreath was won and worn ! 
 Here — in an old and well remembered scene, 
 Here — where thy verse hath rung : thy voice hath been, 
 Oxford that sent thee forth, recalls in pride 
 Once her dear son, and now her guard and guide ; 
 
30 
 
 Strong in thy love, and steadfast in thy strength 
 
 Hope hath chased Memory : — she smiles at length : 
 
 Only in other times if need there be 
 
 To tell her love for him, her hope for thee, 
 
 Be this the sign ; — that when she sorrowed most 
 
 Mourning at once her bulwark and her boast. 
 
 To solace best a sad, and anxious grief. 
 
 And best to honour England's buried Chief, 
 
 She chose no meaner name, no lower line 
 
 To grace his seat and guard her Fame, than thine. 
 
 Edwin Arnold, 
 
 e Coll. Univ. 
 
 * The motto of the Stanley family is " Sans changer,** 
 
oXoXvyiwv cvcfiiqixovvTa twS* ev ^/xart 
 €7ropOLa^€$*' ov yap iie'irifJixj/afJLev 
 XafiTTpbv 7ro\LTr)v, ovtos, ovk av€v irovwv 
 dpiij/as awTOV rravTeXovs evSo^tas, 
 7]Br) rrdpea-Tif crKrJTrTpa fxcra ^epoti/ t^wVy 
 TToXecos T iv ap')(aioi(nv ^[xevos OpovoLS. 
 5 ^aLp€T ^817, Trdvcro^oL fxovcrtjjv eSpai, 
 "loTL^ TC, jJLT^TYjp va/xoiTcuv dyappooiv* 
 TjKU yap Yjfuv wsirep iv (TKOTia KJxio^, 
 (Tc^as /xeytcrrov, r^jSe ttJ 7ravr]yvp€if 
 dp)(aL07rXovT(j)V Ik S6fJL<i}V icrOXbs yeyws, 
 dcTTwv avaf SravXctos* cv tv;(>7 ye t<o 
 Trdpcamv r^uv, oo-rts otSe t^v ttoXlv 
 iv Bvcr)(ifjLOLS ajaicnv olaKOcrTpo^uv, 
 Xa6<f>6opov (TTdcTLv T€ Kr]Xrj6fJL(o Xoyoiv 
 OiXyav St' wto)v i^dXi^ov a-Tdt^mv oira, 
 aXX 5 KpdjKrrov rwSe t<3 Kotv<3 Ka/aa, 
 
 CTTCt TTC^VKaS TTtOTTOS CtS XPCOS ToSe, 
 
 c^ evfiivov^ o*€ KapStas Uvov/^e^a, 
 varipoiv 7rapa8o;(as as ^' o/xiyXtKas 'xpovio 
 
 K€KTYlllS^y CtK^ fJil^TLVa cfiOcLpClV Itt* 
 
 oTots Se Kat Set ^ap//,aKwv TraLdivtoiVf 
 rovTOiv tarpos €v([>povi<rTaTos yeuov' 
 Kal crov y CKart ri/xiwrcpo^ TroAet 
 ovirippidiv yivoiT av evTv;(^s XP^'^OS* 
 avTos Sc Kttt oa> r^sSe ttJs xpctas X^^P*** 
 hraivov avTifiia-Oov evStKWS Xct/Sots. 
 
 F. W. Walkbe, B.A., 
 
 e CoUegio Corporis Ohristi. 
 
;J%ItIH 
 
 ( Immortal spirit of the lyre 
 Who erst didst animate the Grecian lays, 
 And kindle with thy hallowed fire 
 The Paean hymn of praise ! 
 
 Though rude the hand that o'er thy numbers strays, 
 Let but one string awake to life again, 
 One chord harmonious ring that long hath lain 
 Silent and slumbering in its native shell, 
 Till roused of brightest deeds and noblest hearts to tell. 
 
 There is a voice of mourning all around, 
 
 A nation's cry of woe — 
 
 And hearts that quailed not at the trumpet's sound, 
 
 The crash of battle, and the fiery foe, 
 
 Are throbbing faint and low — 
 
 Hark to the pealing of the muffled bell 
 
 That throngs the silent air — it i^ the warrior's knell. 
 
 We mourn thee, Wellington, thy country's pride. 
 Who backward rolled stern Despotism's tide ; 
 Before whose sword the Gallic hosts recoiled. 
 The victor vanquished, and the spoiler spoiled ; 
 Thy hand has snatched from many a bloody fight 
 The righteous laurels of victorious might ; 
 And each fond tear that consecrates thy tomb 
 Will lend those laurels never-fading bloom ; 
 While brazen-throated Fame with winged breath 
 Will hail the Hero -chief unconquered save by death. 
 
The mournful note is melting into space^ 
 
 The last faint echo trembles on the lyre. 
 Come, Spirit, smite the chord of praise, 
 
 The joyful melody inspire ! 
 Full well such theme befits a minstreVs rhyme, 
 
 The glories of an ancient race, 
 For, ever through the ceaseless flow of time. 
 
 Where'er the blazoned scroll of fame we trace, 
 By History heralded, by poet sung, 
 Foremost in court and camp a Stanley's name has rung* 
 
 And thou, of noble sires the noblest son. 
 Thy meanest boast, antiquity of name,- 
 Thy proudest birthright, heritage of fame, 
 Untarnished by the breath of shame. 
 Well didst thou guard the gem thy fathers won. 
 They bore their triumphs from the tented field. 
 The shivered helmet and the battered shield : 
 Yet Victory wreaths for him her choicest crown 
 Who stills the war of fierce debate, 
 Who moulds the councils of a state. 
 Who holds the honour of a throne. 
 Whose voice has power to chain the listening throng, 
 As Orpheus wont of old to pour the flood of song. 
 
 The tribute of a nation's praise 
 
 A grateful country dedicates to thee, 
 
 Who in that night of doubt and fear, 
 
 When tossed upon the troubled sea 
 
 There was no hand the bark to steer. 
 
 The beacon light did'st raise ; 
 
 Hope was the star that beamed upon thy way. 
 
 And chased the darkness with her silver ray, 
 
34 
 
 Thy watchword, justice — and thy country's right 
 The magnet of thy course to point the distant light. 
 
 We bid thee welcome to the calm retreat, 
 
 Where pale-browed Science holds her peaceful sway, 
 Whose classic groves have echoed with the feet 
 Of many a statesman of a byegone day. 
 Could they from out the Elysian glades 
 Arise to walk these academic shades, 
 Their willing tongues would swell the glad acclaim 
 Which thousands raise to celebrate thy name 
 And loudest here the joyful strain should rise. 
 Here loudest anthems fill the vaulted skies, 
 Where first the genius of this ancient pile 
 Bid favouring fortune on thy path to smile. 
 
 Perchance in some more tranquil hour 
 
 Thy soul has bowed to Memory's magic power ; 
 
 And Fancy's foot has trod th' accustomed halls. 
 
 And Fancy's gaze has lingered round the walls 
 
 Where, nourished with the varied store 
 
 Of History's legend and poetic lore, 
 
 Thy youthful ardour, kindling into fiame, 
 
 Plucked the first blossom from the tree of Fame. 
 
 And here the muse would consecrate thy shrine. 
 
 And Science here her wreath of bays entwine, 
 
 To hail thee Guardian of the sacred fire 
 
 Whose breath hath waked to life the spirit of the lyre. 
 
 EDWARD C. D. BELL, 
 
 e Coll. Ball. 
 
O vos Angliacae quondam clarissima gentis 
 Lumina, qui flavSB posuistis ad Isidis undam 
 Musarum augustas sedes, dilectaque Phoebo 
 Atria, et a viridi nobis Helicone Cama3nas 
 Duxistis, tumuli jamdudum rumpite somnos 
 Illustres animae, caecoque audite sepulchro ! 
 Vos Rhedycina voatat ; vos vestraque facta nepotes 
 Per longos annos imitati, passibus sequis 
 Majorum pariter famam moresque sequuntur. 
 En ! laetis iterum auspiciis certo ordine rerum 
 Volvitur alma dies, — studium laudesque suorum 
 Commemorant nati, tantaeque ab origine laeta 
 jEternum memores repetunt primordia famae. 
 En ! sibi jam meritos praeclarus alumnus honores 
 Vindicat, imperiique volens insignia sumit ; 
 ^ternasque simul firmat fausto omine leges. 
 Tempora cui prima vixdum Sapientia tangit 
 Canitie, quanquam sublimi in fronte refulget 
 Intemeratus honos, ac vis intacta juventas : 
 Salve clare lare Pater ! — ^justas adscribere laudes 
 Si liceat, meritoque decus celebrare tuorum 
 Carmine, nunc saltem trepidanti ignosce Camaenae. 
 Sit tibi quos Rhedycina parens commisit honores 
 Consiliis servare piis, turpique veterno 
 Eripere antiquas leges ut jura parentum 
 Excipiant seris saeclis stabilita nepotes. 
 Macte igitur virtute, animi famaeque priores 
 Quos retulere tibi non immemor, ipse faventi 
 Accedas studio, famaque insignis avita 
 
36 
 
 Officii grandes curas gravioraque vitse 
 Munera jucundis discas conjungere Musis. 
 Nee pigeat certo perducere foedere coepta 
 Tarn cari capitis, nuper quern flebilis hora 
 Eripuit nobis, et funere mersit iniquo. — 
 
 O utinam tenui plectro tua facta liceret 
 Tot belli laudes, tantos de pace triumphos 
 Dicere, et ingentes luctus, Arture, tuorum, 
 Inclyte dux nostrum ; — at tantis ingentibus ausis 
 Deficiunt animi vastaque exterrita mole 
 Musa silet, gravius nam poscunt talia plectrum. 
 Exoriare aliquis, digno qui carmine dicat 
 Eximiam Arturi laudem, sasclisque futuris 
 Tum Martis laurus virides, turn pacis olivas 
 Expediet dictis ; — manet seternumque manebit 
 Fama immota viri seros memoranda per annos. 
 Nulla dies memori nomen delebit ab aevo, 
 Dum teneat latum servata Britannia regnum, 
 Dum Rhedycina Parens claris se jactet alumnis. 
 
 Robert Bownas WoRMALDy 
 e Coll. Line, 
 
Kat (TV ix\v iv (Tcyd OavaT<^ SeSfirjfiivo^ evSet$ 
 
 r]jJL€T€p(x)V ap^(i)V ^io)(a TtO/X€V€, 
 
 OS 7roT€ XdoKTiv (Tonrjp i^rjXOe^, avacrx'^y 
 
 atcTi/JLov 'EvpwTT^ cfiiyyo^ iXevOeptas* 
 ov ere fJLovr) yJ/ Trarpts ivl fJieydpoicn KaXwret^ 
 
 yata yap ivSo^oiv iracra iri^vK^ ra^os^ ^ 
 ''Icrts 8' cv SovaK€(rcrt /AtvvpcTat, ^v KaraXcti/^a? 
 
 TToXXa TTCp dxyVfJLivYjV €tS 'AiSt^V aTTC^T^S* 
 
 ccrrat 3' olxofJiivoto (toov K\io<i* cv^aS* dp* T^/xets 
 
 €t Acat KOLfjLrjcraL Mover' ckcXcixjc Xvpav 
 BaKpvo-t vLK-qBucra, fxopov crv y cttci cov cttccttcs 
 
 Se^ofJLeO^ dXXoiOv hoip.ao'L IlteptScDV 
 avepa, (tol yap cpts, iroXip.oio t€ XdPpo<; 6fXiXo<s 
 
 dpyaXeos T€ /xa;(r}s <^vXo7rtSos T€ ttovos, 
 Keti/Q) S* ov TToXifjiOLO Svcn^X'^^^ cpya pbifx-qXc, 
 
 ov8' dvd TOL KpaTeprj<; 6rJK€ rpoTrata X^P^s* 
 dXXa /xctX* eipi^vYj's crri^avov Kat yXavKov eXatT^s 
 
 o^ov, Kat Bd<fivrjs (fivXXov iirl Kpora^ots 
 jSdXXcty Mov(Ta7(TLv TToXv (^tXrcpos* ov yap aTrctpos * 
 
 eo-Tt jU,€XtyX(oo-o"C()V dpfjbovirjs hridiv* 
 TO) S* cTTtTCTpaTTTat BpcTttvcov cvt y^} -TToXvTrvpa) 
 
 Xaots dvTcXXetv €V ctkotiyJctl (ftdo^ 
 dypovofJLOL'S, M.ov<r(x)V Be irapa poov To-iSos dpx^^v 
 
 irpcvfJLeviwv, Swpots *Aovtots TrpoTroXo). 
 kat vvv, 0) 7roXvTt/x€, roS' €t o-ot Trposc^tXes co"Tt, 
 
 /cat X^P'5 Y}fl€T€pOLS €t TtS €V€(TTL XoyOtS 
 
 Xatp€ — Kat €1/ fX€ydpoL^ cro^fiLr]'; orav avTos dvaaa^^: 
 avcpos €v fjbvrja-ai tov rrdpos otxo/xevov. 
 
 R. N. Sanderson, 
 ex Aul. Magd : Scholaris Lusbeianus. 
 
 ^ Av^poov yh.p iiriipapuv iraffa yrj rd(pos. 
 
 Thucyd., Book II. 43. 
 
 * In allusion to the Latin Verse Prize gained by Lord Derby 
 when an undergraduate in this University. 
 
A few short years — at this high festival 
 His Country's Saviour stood in Sheldon's hall : 
 A few short years — the Warrior sinks to rest, 
 Mourn'd by his England, by his England blest. 
 Scarce from our towers the last sad knell is rung, 
 Scarce in our aisles the solemn requiem sung, 
 Scarce on the lips of him we greet to-day 
 The Hero's eulogy hath died away ; — 
 Died but in sound — its hero cannot die, 
 Death is his herald to posterity. 
 
 As a great Chieftain, borne upon his shield 
 From out the roar of his last battle-field, 
 Speaks in that low clear vjice that marketh still 
 The falt'ring life, the never- fait' ring will, — 
 Chides the weak sorrow of his wistful band, 
 And, strong in spirit, gives his last command, — 
 Points onward, in that pause of doubt and dread, 
 And bids another lead where he had led — 
 'Tis thus, methinks, His brave calm spirit here 
 Forbids the sigh, forbids the starting tear ; 
 Yes, lov'd Oxonia, bids thee cease to mourn. 
 And look, not weeping now, not now forlorn, 
 To him whom fondly, as a youthful knight. 
 Whose mother's hands have mail'd him for the fight, 
 Arm'd with thy panoply thou badest forth 
 Well to essay, and well to prove its worth ; 
 
39 
 
 And now, with many a trophy proudly won 
 From Britain's Senate thou hast call'd thy son — 
 Sent forth in hope, and welcomed back with pride, 
 Thy promise then, thy Champion now and guide. 
 Deep is the joy that generous welcome brings, 
 Which from a thousand hearts unbidden springs ; 
 But there's a deeper joy — a softer pow'r — 
 That thrills the heart, in that delicious hour, 
 When, from Life's turmoil, Manhood seeks once more 
 His early home, and sees the scenes of yore, — 
 When those dear memories of the vanished years, 
 Making sweet music in the Pilgrim's ears, 
 Back to youth's morning-land the Man beguile, 
 Like Ariel's harping round the haunted isle. 
 
 Ye classic cloisters, ye time-honour'd piles, 
 Ye heavenward-pointing spires, ye echoing aisles, 
 Whose hallow'd spell his youthful fancy led. 
 O'er Manhood's heart once more your spirit shed. 
 Ye brooks, ye meads, that gird our old grey towers. 
 Ye woodland haunts, ye unforgotten bowers, 
 If e'er his song your guardian nymphs could please, 
 Waft him your welcome in the summer breeze. 
 O Isis, if thy meadow-fringed side, 
 Not unenamour'd, he hath roam'd beside, 
 Arise, lov'd Isis, bid thy waters now 
 Murmur sweet welcome with their silver flow. 
 Ye Muses, send him, from your classic grove, 
 A greeting worthy of his early love ; 
 And, if he thinks no scorn your wreath to wear, 
 And if its laurel-leaves be not yet sere, 
 Bind ye, in memory of the time that's fled. 
 His youth's green garland on the Statesman's head. 
 
40 
 
 Ye great departed ! Soldier, Statesman, Sage, 
 Whose living semblance still, from age to age, 
 Shrin*d as the genius of Oxonia*s halls, 
 Looks inspiration from our ancient walls, — 
 Receive your peer ! swift years have roll'd away, 
 And Derby rules, where Stanley learn'd t' obey — 
 Where his young Muse with Learning's meed was 
 
 crown'd. 
 When in this Hall, from these throng' d galleries round 
 The youth of Oxford lean'd his voice to hear, 
 And gave, not undeserv'd, the generous cheer ; 
 And woman's smile, from many a radiant row, 
 Glanc'd its approving lustre then as now ; 
 Then let him hear these echoes once again 
 Resound his welcome and prolong the strain ; 
 And grant, ye fair, a lovelier meed of praise 
 Than laurell'd honours, or than Poet's lays ; 
 Shed ye on this bright scene a brighter ray. 
 And crown the triumph with your smile to-day. 
 
 William Allan Russell, B.A., 
 
 Magdalen Hall. 
 
THE FEAST OF BELSHAZZAR. 
 
 A PRIZE POEM 
 RECITED IN THE THEATRE, OXFORD, 
 
 JUNE XXIII. M DCCC LIT. 
 BY 
 
 EDWIN ARNOLD. 
 
 UNIVERSITY COLLEGE, 
 
 OXFORD: 
 FRANCIS MACPHERSON. 
 
 MDCCC LII. 
 
SYNOPSIS. 
 
 " Belshazzar's impious feast ; a handwriting, unknown to the 
 magicians, troubleth the king. At the commendation of the 
 queen Daniel is brought ; He, reproving the king of pride and 
 idolatry, readeth and interpreteth the writing. The monarchy 
 is translated to the Medes." — Daniel, ch. 5. 
 
THE FEAST OF BELSHAZZAR. 
 
 dXy iff^L rot TO. cfkXtjp^ dyav (l)povrjiiaTa 
 TCLTrreiv fidXiffra. 
 
 OT by one portal, or one path alone 
 God's holy messages to men are known : 
 Waiting the glances of his awful eyes 
 Silver-winged Seraphs do him embassies ; 
 And stars interpreting his high behest 
 Guide the lone feet and glad the failing breast — 
 The rolling thunder and the raging sea 
 Speak the stern purpose of the Deity, 
 And storms beneath and rainbow hues above 
 Herald his anger or proclaim his love : 
 The still small voices of the summer day, 
 The red Sirocco, and the breath of May, 
 The lingering harmony in Ocean shells. 
 The fairy music of the meadow bells, 
 
4 The Feast of Belshazzar. 
 
 Earth and void Air — Water and wasting Flame 
 Have words to whisper, tongues to tell his name. 
 Once — with no cloak of careful mystery 
 Himself was herald of his own decree ; 
 The hand that edicts on the marble drew 
 Graved the stern sentence of their scorner too. — 
 Listen and learn ! Tyrants have heard the tale, 
 And turned from hearing terror-struck and pale, 
 Spiritless captives sinking with the chain 
 Have read this page and taken heart again. — 
 
 From sunlight unto starlight trumpets told 
 Her king's command in Babylon the old, 
 From sunlight unto starlight west and east 
 A thousand satraps girt them for the feast, 
 And reined their chargers to the palace hall 
 Where King Belshazzar held high festival : 
 A pleasant palace under pleasant skies 
 With cloistered courts and gilded galleries, 
 And gay kiosk and painted balustrade 
 For winter terraces and summer shade ; 
 By court and terrace, minaret and dome, 
 Euphrates, rushing from his mountain home, 
 Rested his rage, and curbed his crested pride 
 
The Feast of Belshazzar. 
 
 To belt that palace with his bluest tide ; 
 Broad-fronted bulls with chiselled feathers barred 
 In silent vigil keeping watch and ward, 
 Giants of granite wrought by cunning hand 
 Guard in the gate and frown upon the land : 
 Not summer's glow nor yellow autumn's glare 
 Pierced the broad tamarisks that blossomed there ; 
 The moonbeam darting through their leafy screen 
 Lost half its silver in the softened green, 
 And fell with lessened lustre, broken light. 
 Tracing quaint arabesque of dark and white ; 
 Or dimly tinting on the graven stones 
 The pictured annals of Chaldsean thrones. — 
 There, from the rising to the setting day 
 Birds of bright feather sang the light away, 
 And fountain waters on the palace-floor 
 Made even answer to the river's roar. 
 Rising in silver from the crystal well 
 And breaking into spangles as they fell ; 
 Though now ye heard them not — for far along 
 Rang the broad chorus of the banquet song, 
 And sounds as gentle, echoes soft as these 
 Died out of hearing from the revelries. 
 
^> The Feast of Belshazzar. 
 
 High on a throne of ivory and gold, 
 From crown to footstool clad in purple fold, 
 Lord of the east from sea to distant sea 
 The king Belshazzar feasteth royally — 
 And not that dreamer in the desert cave 
 Peopled his paradise with pomp as brave: 
 Vessels of silver, cups of crusted gold 
 Blush with a brighter red than all they hold ; 
 Pendulous lamps like planets of the night 
 Flung on the diadems a fragrant light. 
 Or slowly swinging in the midnight sky 
 Gilded the ripples as they glided by : — 
 And sweet and sweeter rang the cittern-string 
 Soft as the beating of a Seraph's wing, 
 And swift and swifter in the measured dance 
 The tresses gather and the sandals glance. 
 And bright and brighter at the festal board 
 The flagons bubble and the wines are poured ; 
 No lack of goodly company was there, 
 "No lack of laughing eyes to light the cheer ; 
 From Dara trooped they, from Daremma's grove 
 " The suns of battle and the moons of love ; " * 
 From where Arsissa^s silver waters sleep 
 
 * Hafiz, the Persian Anacreon. 
 
The Feast of Belshazzar. 
 
 To Imla's marshes and the inland deep, 
 
 From pleasant Calah and from Sittacene 
 
 The horseman's captain and the Harem's queen. — 
 
 It seemed no summer-cloud of passing woe 
 Could fling its shadow on so fair a show — 
 It seemed the gallant forms that feasted there 
 Were all too grand for woe, too great for care — 
 Whence came the anxious eye, the altered tone, 
 The dull presentiment no heart would own, 
 That ever changed the smiling to a sigh 
 Sudden as sea-bird flashing from the sky : — 
 It is not that they know the spoiler wails 
 Harnessed for battle at the brazen gates. 
 It is not that they hear the watchman's call 
 Mark the slow minutes on the leaguered wall, 
 The clash of quivers and the ring of spears 
 Make pleasant music in a soldier's ears : 
 And not a scabbard hideth sword to-night 
 That hath not glimmered in the front of fight — 
 May not the blood in every beating vein 
 Have quick foreknowledge of the coming pain ? 
 Even as the prisoned silver, * dead and dumb 
 
 * The quicksilver in the tube of the thermometer. 
 
8 The Feast of Belshazzar. 
 
 Shrinks at cold Winter's footfall ere he come. — 
 
 The king hath felt it and the heart's unrest 
 Heaved the broad purple of his belted breast 5 
 Sudden he speaks — " What ! doth the beaded juice 
 *' Savour like hyssop that ye scorn its use ? 
 " Wear ye so pitiful and sad a soul 
 *^ That tramp of foemen scares ye from the bowl ? 
 *' Think ye the gods on yonder starry floor 
 '^ Tremble for terror, when the thunders roar ? 
 " Are we not gods ? have we not fought with God ? 
 " And shall we shiver at a robber's nod ? 
 ^^ No — let them batter till the brazen bars 
 ^^ Ring merry mocking of their idle wars — 
 " Their fall is fated for to-morrow's sun, 
 " The lion rouses when his feast is done — 
 " Crown me a cup— and fill the bowls we brought 
 " From Judah's temple when the fight was fought — 
 " Drink, till the merry madness fill the soul 
 " To Salem's conqueror in Salem's bowl — 
 " Each from the goblet of a God shall sip 
 " And Judah's gold tread heavy on the lip." * 
 
 * " He never drinks 
 But Timon's silver treads upon his lip." Shak. Tit, Andr. 
 
The Feast of Belshazzar. 
 
 The last loud answer dies along the line, 
 The last light bubble bursts upon the wine, 
 His eager lips are on the jewelled brink, 
 Hath the cup poison that he doubts to drink ? 
 Is there a spell upon the sparkling gold, 
 That so his fevered fingers quit their hold ? 
 Whom sees he where he gazes ? what is there 
 Freezing his vision into fearful stare ? 
 Follow his lifted arm and lighted eye 
 And watch with them the wondrous mystery. — 
 
 There cometh forth a hand — upon the stone, 
 Graving the symbols of a speech unknown ; 
 Fingers like mortal fingers — leaving there 
 The blank wall flashing characters of fear — 
 And still it glideth silently and slow. 
 And still beneath the spectral letters grow — 
 Now the scroll endeth — now the seal is set — 
 The hand is gone — the record tarries yet. — 
 
 As one who waits the warrant of his death, 
 With pale lips parted and with bridled breath — 
 They watch the sign and dare not turn to seek 
 
10 The Feast of Belshazzar. 
 
 Their fear reflected in their fellows' cheek — 
 But stand as statues where the life is none, 
 Half the jest uttered — half the laughter done — 
 Half the flask empty — half the flagon poured, — 
 Each where the phantom found him at the board 
 Struck into silence — as December's arm 
 Curbs the quick ripples into crystal calm. — 
 
 With wand of ebony and sable stole 
 Chaldsea's wisest scan the spectral scroll — 
 Strong in the lessons of a lying art 
 Each comes to gaze, but gazes to depart — 
 And still for mystic sign and muttered spell 
 The graven letters guard their secret well — 
 Gleam they for warning — glare they to condemn — • 
 God speaketh, — but he speaketh not for them. — 
 
 Oh ! ever, when the happy laugh is dumb 
 All the joy gone, and all the anguish come — 
 When strong adversity and subtle pain 
 Wring the sad soul and rack the throbbing brain — 
 When friends once faithful, hearts once all our own 
 Leave us to weep, to bleed and die alone — 
 When fears and cares the lonely thought employ, 
 
The Feast of Belshazzar. 11 
 
 And clouds of sorrow hide the sun of joy — 
 
 When weary life, breathing reluctant breath 
 
 Hath no hope sweeter than the hope of death — 
 
 Then the best counsel and the last relief 
 
 To cheer the spirit or to cheat the grief, 
 
 The only calm, the only comfort heard 
 
 Comes in the music of a woman's word — 
 
 Like beacon-bell on some wild island-shore, 
 
 Silverly ringing in the tempest's roar. 
 
 Whose sound borne shipward through the midnight 
 
 gloom 
 Tells of the path, and turns her from her doom. 
 
 So in the silence of that awful hour 
 When baffled magic mourned its parted power — 
 When kings were pale and satraps shook for fear, 
 A woman speaketh — and the wisest hear — 
 She — the high daughter of a thousand thrones 
 Telling with trembling lip and timid tones 
 Of him the Captive, in the feast forgot. 
 Who readeth visions — him, whose wondrous lot 
 Sends him to lighten doubt and lessen gloom. 
 And gaze undazzled on the days to come — 
 Daniel the Hebrew, such his name and race, 
 
12 The Feast of Belshazzar. 
 
 Held by a monarch highest in his grace, 
 
 He may declare — Oh!— -bid them quickly send, 
 
 So may the mystery have happy end ! — 
 
 Calmly and silent as the fair full moon 
 Comes sailing upward in the sky of June — 
 Fearfully as the troubled clouds of night 
 Shrink from before the coming of its light — 
 So through the hall the Prophet passed along, 
 So from before him fell the festal throng — 
 By broken wassail-cup, and wine overthrown 
 Pressed he still onward for the monarch's throne — 
 His spirit failed him not — his quiet eye 
 Lost not its light for earthly majesty 5 
 His lip was steady and his accent clear, 
 " The king hath needed me, — and I am here." — 
 
 ^^ Art thou the Prophet ? read me yonder scroll 
 " Whose undeciphered horror daunts my soul — 
 " There shall be guerdon for the grateful task, 
 '^ Fitted for me to give, for thee to ask — 
 " A chain to deck thee — and a robe to grace, 
 ^^ Thine the third throne and thou the third in place." 
 
The Feast of Belshazzar. 13 
 
 He heard — and turned him where the lighted wall 
 Dimmed the red torches of the festival, 
 Gazed on the sign with steady gaze and set, 
 And he who quailed not at a kingly threat 
 Bent the true knee and bowed the silver hair, 
 For that he knew the King of kings was there — 
 Then nerved his soul the sentence to unfold, 
 While his tongue trembled at the tale it told — 
 And never tongue shall echo tale as strange 
 Till that change cometh which must never change. 
 
 " Keep for thyself the guerdon and the gold- - 
 " What God hath graved, God's prophet must unfold ; 
 " Could not thy father's crime, thy father's fate 
 '^ Teach thee the terror thou hast learnt too late — 
 " Hast thou not read the lesson of his life, 
 " Who wars with God shall strive a losing strife ? 
 " His was a kingdom mighty as thine own, 
 " The sword his sceptre and the earth his throne — 
 " The nations trembled when his awful eye 
 " Gave to them leave to live or doom to die — 
 " The Lord of Life — the Keeper of the grave, 
 " His frown could wither and his smile could save — 
 " Yet when his heart was hard, his spirit high 
 
14 The Feast of Belshazzar. 
 
 " God drave him from his kingly majesty, 
 
 " Far from the brotherhood of fellow men 
 
 " To seek for dwelling in the desert den ; 
 
 " Where the wild asses feed and oxen roam 
 
 " He sought his pasture and he made his home, 
 
 " And bitter-biting frost and dews of night 
 
 " Schooled him in sorrow till he knew the right, 
 
 " That God is ruler of the rulers still 
 
 " And setteth up the sovereign that he will : — 
 
 " Oh ! hadst thou treasured in repentant breast 
 
 " His pride and fall, his penitence and rest, 
 
 " And bowed submissive to Jehovah's will, 
 
 ^^ Then had thy sceptre been a sceptre still — 
 
 " But thou hast mocked die majesty of heaven, 
 
 " And shamed the vessels to its service given, 
 
 " And thou hast fashioned idols of thine own 
 
 " Idols of gold, of silver, and of stone ; 
 
 " To them hast bowed the knee, and breathed the breath, 
 
 " And they must help thee in the hour of death. 
 
 " Woe for the sign unseen, the sin forgot, 
 
 " God was among ye, and ye knew it not ! 
 
 " Hear what he sayeth now, ' Thy race is run, 
 
 " The years are numbered and the days are done, 
 
 " Thy soul hath mounted in the scale of fate. 
 
The Feast of Belshazzar. 15 
 
 " The Lord hath weighed thee and thou lackest weight ; 
 " Now in thy palace porch the spoilers stand, 
 " To seize thy sceptre, to divide thy land.' " — 
 
 He ended — and his passing foot was heard, 
 But none made answer, not a lip was stirred — 
 Mute the free tongue and bent the fearless brow, — 
 The mystic letters had their meaning now ! 
 Soon came there other sound — the clash of steel. 
 The heavy ringing of the iron heel — 
 The curse in dying, and the cry for life. 
 The bloody voices of the battle strife. — 
 
 That night they slew him on his father's throne. 
 The deed unnoticed and the hand unknown ; 
 Crownless and sceptreless Belshazzar lay, 
 A robe of purple^ round a form of clay. 
 
 EDWIN ARNOLD. 
 
 C. Whittingliam, Tooks Court, Chancery Lane. 
 
A PRIZE POEM, 
 
 1853. 
 
THE RUINS OF EGYPTIAN THEBES. 
 
 A PRIZE POEM, 
 
 EECITED IN THE THEATEE, OXFOED, 
 
 JUNE 7th, 1853. 
 
 SAMUEL HAEYEY EEYNOLDS, 
 
 SCHOLAR OF EXETER COLLEGE. 
 
 OXFOED, 
 
 T. AND G. SHRIMPTON. 
 
 M DCCC LIII. 
 
THE RUINS OP EGYPTIAN THEBES. 
 
 Tire pais oTraSoTs virvov KfX^vOois. 
 
 I LAY in slumber, lightly bound, yet free 
 
 By fancy winged I strayed unfettered on 
 
 Through fairy splendours, touched again with life, 
 
 And orbing into act and circumstance, 
 
 From the dim past ; awhile methought I stood 
 
 Among the halls of Carthage ; now among 
 
 The statued shrines of Athens, with the gods 
 
 Pallas, and young Apollo ; now at Eome 
 
 I saw a senate giving world-wide law 
 
 Or Scipio hurling back upon the foe 
 
 The storm of war at Zama ; 'till at length 
 
 Slowly my vision gathered time and shape. 
 
 And then upon a waste of Libyan plain 
 
 I wandered on alone, and not a sight, 
 
6 
 
 Or sound I heard of any living thing, 
 
 Save when the ostrich, borne across the sand 
 
 On storm-swift pinion, lessened to a speck 
 
 Par in the faint horizon ; or alone 
 
 The dusky eagle winged his trackless way 
 
 High overhead ; but when the night was late 
 
 The distant echo of the lion's roar 
 
 Pell on the ear like thunder, heard afar. 
 
 What time the storm breaks crashing on the hills, 
 
 And thickest hail, and streams of angry fire 
 
 Reveal the terrors of the gloomy night. 
 
 And now the sun sank slowly to repose 
 
 In the still west, and 'neath his latest beam 
 
 The flashiug torrent of the^ dark-blue Nile 
 
 Poured on its mass of waters, seaward borne ; 
 
 Now o'er the headlong cataract with a roar 
 
 Down plunging, lost in clouds of glittering spray, 
 
 That lightly fell, like lilies scattered down 
 
 Prom ivory fingers, or the silvery shower 
 
 "When the rude North's unkindly touch shakes off 
 
 The glistening dew-drop from the rose's bloom ; 
 
 Or parted here by barrier rocks, that frowned, 
 
 Like giants set in the path to stop their way, 
 
With thousand slender streamlets girdled in 
 
 A thousand mossy isles ; here broadening down 
 
 In full deep flood through tall acacia bowers, 
 
 And happy orchards set with golden fruits 
 
 Fair as the treasure, dragon- watched, that shone 
 
 In the far gardens of th' Hesperides. 
 
 But distant seen in solitary state 
 
 E-ose frowning towers, and battlements that fenced 
 
 A mighty city ; and as near I came 
 
 Precipitous walls, and clustered palaces. 
 
 And temples old in story, bathed in light, 
 
 Shone to the eye, like those rich jewelled domes 
 
 That genii build in old Arabian tale 
 
 Eich with the treasures of the land and sea. 
 
 The gates lay broken down, I entered in 
 
 Unheeded ; all was silence, save the cry 
 
 Of some ill-omened bird, scared from his haunt 
 
 By man's unwonted step ; and all the town 
 
 Lay bound in slumber ; through the long blank street 
 
 No face met mine, alone I wandered on. 
 
 But all about me, towering to the sky, 
 
 Eose lofty pinnacles, and ancient halls 
 
 Of monarchs, all forgotten ; only these 
 
8 
 
 Eomained to tell their glory, only these 
 To mock the wonder of a later age. 
 And through tall windows rich with coloured stones 
 The sunbeam poured upon the dazzled floors ; 
 And flooded light o'er columns wreathed about 
 With lotus, and high pointed obelisks traced 
 With mystic letters, hard to tell, as leaves 
 From sybil's scroll, or those dread lines of fire 
 That wrought confusion in Belshazzar's hall, 
 Writ by an unknowp hand, foresliadowing woe. 
 And every chamber, every palace hall 
 Was dight with sculptured legendary lore ; 
 Or brightly glowing by the painter's art 
 Told stories of an early world, the youth 
 Of nations that had passed away, and left, 
 Save these, no other memory of their state. 
 And here the sunbeam lighted into life 
 An ancient tale of war ; a bannered host 
 Poured forth from every gate, and all the plain 
 Grieamed with bright brass, and tossed a thousand 
 
 fires 
 From helm and shield, and from ten thousand throats 
 In wild fierce discord rose the yell of war : 
 
9 
 
 And there the prancings of the warrior steed, 
 
 The din of shielded legions, and the clang 
 
 Of measured martial tread, each sound that wakes 
 
 The daring latent in the soldier's breast : 
 
 The eagle too, that knew the gathering strife 
 
 The gaunt grim vulture hovered there, and troops 
 
 Of hungry birds, that tear their sweetest meal 
 
 What time the ranks are broken, and the fight 
 
 Slopes onward, or the thick black cloud of smoke 
 
 Wreathes up in volumes from the conquered town. 
 
 Nor war alone, but every motley scene 
 
 Of life was pictured there, in light and shade, 
 
 Or glad, or mournful, like an April morn 
 
 Half dulled with clouds, half laughing on the sun. 
 
 And here a long procession filled the streets, 
 
 A prince's wedding gay with royal robes 
 
 And torches, moving lightly to the sound 
 
 Of festal music ; here the crowded board 
 
 Was thronged with guests that feasted till the eve, 
 
 And sported till the morning star looked down 
 
 On twilight slowly broadening into day. 
 
 And other sights were there : the Libyan gods 
 
 Stood, each in marble, figured to the life 
 
10 
 
 By artist's fancy, such as life miglit be 
 
 If life itself were frozen into stone. 
 
 And there were Isis, Horus, and the rest, 
 
 The dog Anubis, and the wolf-god, he 
 
 Who slew Osiris, Typhon ; and the bull 
 
 Apis, to whom a myriad voices rise 
 
 And hail Osiris rendered back to life. 
 
 Nor these alone, but men whose deeds of fame 
 
 Speak to us from the past, sage, warrior, king, 
 
 Poet, and statesman, names whose charm hath power 
 
 To bind the ages with a closer chain 
 
 Of brotherhood in great and glorious deeds. 
 
 But I passed on, and left the glittering halls, 
 
 And stood within the sepulchres of kings. 
 
 More wondrous than their earthly palaces. 
 
 "For there they dwelt a little span of life 
 
 Brief as a dream that fades away at morn, 
 
 And passed and mingled with the silent dead : 
 
 But here, while countless ages came and went. 
 
 They lay in awful majesty, unchanged. 
 
 Nor fearing change ; tiU the revolving years. 
 
 Completed, circled out a newer life ; 
 
 And former scenes, forgotten to the sense, 
 
11 
 
 Were acted o*er again ; for so they deemed, 
 
 What was, had been, and was again to be 
 
 In due succession, different, yet the same. 
 
 And here within an inner chamber, dim. 
 
 Hung all with solemn draperies, where the siin 
 
 Had never pierced, and breezes never blew 
 
 The fragrant morning, sad as a sick man's room, 
 
 Whose friends stand hushed expecting ere he die, 
 
 A lonely woman sat ; a single lamp 
 
 Burned on before her, like a little star 
 
 Scarce seen through drifting clouds when all the 
 
 night 
 Is black with tempest ; and its light was dim, 
 Cold, cheerless, as in Iceland's winter falls 
 One straggling sunbeam o'er a waste of snow. 
 Her face was beautiful, but pale and sad 
 With untold grief; her long dark careless hair 
 Had slipped its band, and strayed in tangled folds 
 Down her cold bosom ; and her eye was dim : 
 But heaved her breast as though a Hecla fire 
 Were cratered there, and forced its way unhid 
 In sudden storms of sighs ; most beautiftd. 
 Most sad, she sat ; but oh if Sorrow stole 
 
12 
 
 A charm awhile from Beauty, Beauty's self 
 
 Might envy well the charm that Sorrow lent 
 
 To every perfect feature : there awhile 
 
 I stood in silence, loth too soon to wake 
 
 Her reverie ; at the last she spoke, her voice 
 
 Sank deep and mournful on my listening ear 
 
 As moans the sad sea wind the long night through 
 
 About the desert unfrequented shore. 
 
 ** And who art thou," she said, " whose careless step 
 
 Hath thus disturbed us in our place of rest, 
 
 Our long last home, where ages flow untold 
 
 In sad succession, like a funeral train 
 
 That knows no end ; and never breaks the morn, 
 
 But morn and eve are lost in ceaseless night." 
 
 Then I in wonder, " Not with curious eye 
 
 Led on by idle fancy have I come, 
 
 But wandering in amazement, from among 
 
 The lordly mansions of an early time, 
 
 When dwelt the gods on earth, and raised them up 
 
 Eternal houses, splendid as the crest 
 
 Of white Olympus when his topmost snows 
 
 Eeflect the thunderer's presence, and the state 
 
 Of heaven descends, to awe the eyes of men." 
 
13 
 
 " Poor relics these," she said, "but I have seen 
 
 The hundred-gated Thebae, when in youth 
 
 She sat aloft in queenly state, as sits 
 
 The cloud-capped rock above a v^aste of sea. 
 
 A wondrous city ; and a wondrous land, 
 
 Such as no eye can ere again behold : 
 
 A land of morning, where the early sun, 
 
 Hailed with full-throated voice of welcome, rose 
 
 In cloudless splendour far beyond the hills 
 
 That bound thy utmost gaze : and all around 
 
 Th' empurpled mist pierced through with golden 
 
 light 
 Eled at his coming, and he reigned alone 
 Through the wide sky, sole monarch of the day. 
 A land of evening, where the full-orbed moon 
 And all the stars that gem the coronal 
 Of dewy Night, shone o'er us, with a song 
 Of voiceless music ; and the balmy air 
 Slow breathing wafted on the full perfume 
 From groves of citron by the banks of Nile : 
 And through a thousand kingly palaces 
 The calm light slumbered on the pictured walls : 
 The while the shadows of our city towers 
 
14 
 
 Sloped, deepening down, across the yellow sands. 
 
 But, for no language can avail to speak 
 
 The early glories of the Theban town, 
 
 The toil of works, the temples, palaces 
 
 That rose to heaven ; and more than all the rest 
 
 The earnest life that throbbed in every pulse, 
 
 And prompted on to words and deeds of fame. 
 
 That live in story in the mouths of men, 
 
 I will recall a vision from the past. 
 
 And shew thee wonders, more than tongue can tell." 
 
 I turned me at her bidding, and beheld 
 
 A countless people, toiling on till eve. 
 
 All with a single purpose piling up 
 
 Huge granite rocks, and moulding into form 
 
 With curious art the uncouth mass of stone ; 
 
 And while they laboured, rose, as in a dream, 
 
 Deep-bastioned walls, and turrets high to heaven, 
 
 And spacious courts, and palaces, and shrines 
 
 Of jewelled fretwork, deep inlaid with gold : 
 
 And one was there who urged them on to toil, 
 
 And sang the glories of the coming age. 
 
 And Thebes, the queen of nations ; and I knew 
 
 The guardian goddess of the town, and knew 
 
15 
 
 The strange sad lady whom I erst had found 
 
 In lonely sorrow, weeping in the tombs. 
 
 Once more I gazed : Tithonus' royal son 
 
 Eode forth : to battle with the warrior Glreeks 
 
 That fought at Ilium ; twenty thousand knights 
 
 And thousand chariots thronged the changing plain. 
 
 'Twas early morning, and the glowing East 
 
 Flushed with the purple sunrise, as the car 
 
 Of bright Aurora shone upon the day, 
 
 Led by the rosy Hours : about his head 
 
 The bickering sunbeam floated, kindling up 
 
 A thousand rainbow hues, red, emerald, gold, 
 
 And violet. As in some deep-shaded bower 
 
 The twining jasmine, tangled with the rose, 
 
 Iris and honeysuckle, cheats the eye 
 
 "With warm soft hues, half manifold, half one. 
 
 So beamed, innoxious, round his crested head, 
 
 The wild bright glory of the lambent flame, 
 
 Aurora's greeting to her warrior child. 
 
 But now the scene was changed ; through every 
 
 gate, 
 In strange dark garb, poured in the victor band 
 From Susa's palace, and the Median bank 
 
16 
 
 Of far Choaspes : tall above the rest 
 The monarch of the East, Cambyses, rode 
 In more than kingly state, his chariot yoked 
 With snow-white horses, and the gods looked down 
 With jealous eyes, unseen ; but now he came 
 All conqueror, none withstood his onward way. 
 But while I gazed, and heard, or seemed to hear, 
 The burning temples crash in thunder down ; 
 And tongues of fire and clouds of pillared smoke 
 E-ose ever'ywhere, as burst upon the town 
 The long-pent fury of the Persian host ; 
 The sun had flaunted in the eastern sky 
 The first red banner of the early dawn, 
 And, nearer now, had fringed the purple clouds 
 With hues of morning : and my vision passed 
 Afirighted from before me, and the day 
 Came up victorious, scattering in his course 
 The changeful shadows of reluctant night. 
 
14 DAY USE 
 
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