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Short Memoir 












THIS little work has been compiled chiefly from 
a MS. book written in Dr. Kynaston's exquisite 
hand, and from the lectures he delivered at 
Durham on Greek Poetry. I have also to thank 
Mr. Arthur Coleridge for extracts from his diary, 
and the publishers of the Lyra Messianica for 
permission to print hymns from that collection, 
Mr. Orby Shipley for the translation of Damien's 
Gloria Paradisi, which would otherwise have 
escaped me, and Dr. Lowe, of Durham, 
for useful suggestions and careful revising of 
proofs, by which errors and omissions have 
been mended. Perhaps some matter has been 
admitted which the fastidious taste of my old 
friend would have rejected as lacking that final 
polish which his best work shows, but there were 
always happy phrases which made rejection difficult. 
Old Etonians will be reminded of their past, and 
though perhaps the name of Califano has passed 
into oblivion, the Quarter Master will still be a 
living figure. 



March 11, 1912. 



Portrait of Herbert Kynaston Frontispiece 

Memoir - - ix 

Translations from the Greek - 3 

Hymns, Latin Versions of - - 28 

Gloria Paradisi, Translation of ~ 3& 

Hymns from the Lyra Messianica - - 41 

Versions, Latin - 46 

Original Latin and Greek Poems, etc. - -62 

Ode for the Jubilee of the Boat Race - - 76 

English Poems, etc. - - 81 

Acrostics - - 87 

Double Acrostics - 89 

Charades - - 95 

Solutions - 97 


HERBERT SNOW, the third son of Robert Snow 
and Georgina Kynaston, was born June 29, 1835. 
He took the name of Kynaston by deed-poll at 
the instance of his uncle, Dr. Herbert Kynaston, 
High Master of S. Paul's School in 1875, wnen 
that good family name seemed in danger of 

His father was a sleeping partner in the private 
banking firm of Snow, Strahan, & Paul. At the age 
of eight he accompanied his father and grandmother 
in a foreign tour through France to the Riviera, 
thence to Florence and Naples, and came back 
through Lombardy, visited the S. Bernard's con- 
vent, and so to Chamonix and Geneva home. This 
tour made a lasting impression : it was made in 
the old-fashioned style in the grandmother's chariot 
with a courier in attendance. Little was then to be 
seen of ancient Rome, but he ascended Vesuvius, 
saw fragments of rock or lava shot from a conical 


mound in the centre of the crater, and ran down the 
mountain through hot ashes. The result, as he says 
in his biography, was to rouse an interest in Classi- 
cal Antiquity, and give him a fine object-lesson in 
Geography. He went to Eton in 1847, anc ^ gives 
a lively account of a time " which was, as it is for 
all, one of great enjoyment." He boarded at 
Miss Edgar's, and Yonge was his tutor. His 
chief debt to his tutor was the care he took in 
correcting his compositions, but inspiration was not 
to be drawn from that source. "The best teachers 
of the day were Carter, Goodford, and Cookesley ; " 
of Coleridge he had no experience. 

In 1853 he left Eton, and in October, with a 
Scholarship and Exhibition to back him, entered at 
S. John's College, Cambridge. Though at once 
he took a leading part in his college boat, he won 
in 1855 tne Porson scholarship, was proxime accessit 
for the Craven, and gained the Browne and 
Camden medals. There was a long severe frost, 
beginning in January and lasting six weeks : 
skating was universal. On one occasion he and 
others got across by dykes to the Ouse, and 
reached Bedford on the ice, took train to Oxford, 
where the undergraduates had a four-in-hand on 
the river. In the middle of the May Term a great 
change in his fortunes occurred. The Temple Bar 
Bank, which was his destination, collapsed, and 


nothing was left for him but to work in earnest, 
and take such a degree as would qualify him for 
a fellowship. In 1856 he rowed No. 7 in the 
University eight. Cambridge won by half a length ; 
the race was rowed in a gale of wind ; both boats 
were half-full of water, and all men drenched. 
In 1857 Lady Margaret's crew were head of the 
river, and he was stroke of the University 
Eight at a time when he was in for the Classical 
Tripos, a great strain on his powers. He was 
bracketed Senior Classic, but Oxford won the race 
that year at Putney. In 1858 he was offered an 
Eton Mastership, and gave up the idea of being a 
college don. This encouraged him to propose to 
Miss Mary Bros, who had won his love, and " I 
entered on my career as a schoolmaster, contented 
and happy. 1 ' Of the manners and customs of that 
day he writes : " Eton masters were very different 
from what they are now. They were not so 
familiar with the boys, but were more ' donnish/ 
and never laid aside their ordinary hats and coats, 
even when they went on rare occasions on the 
river ; and I had strong hints given me that I was 
rather lax in this respect, because I wore a straw 
hat, and even descended to the undignified costume 
of flannel shirt and trousers. Hawtrey wrote to 
my uncle, Roger Kynaston, to ask him to persuade 
me to shave my whiskers up to the old-fashioned 


regulation limit, the base of the ear. But I went 
my own way, and was backed up the next year by 
Warre." (Etonians of the forties will remember 
Roger Kynaston fielding long leg and cover point 
in the Marylebone match.) Among his pupils 
were Kennion, now Bishop of Bath and Wells, 
and Harmer, now Bishop of Rochester ; Fletcher, 
the Oxford historian, was another, and George 

In the summer holidays he went for a tour in 
Switzerland, and climbed Monte Rosa. He was 
ordained deacon at Christmas, and preached his 
first sermon in the river-side church at Boveney ; 
and in the following year, 1860, he took priest's 
orders in June, and was married on the 8th of 
August ; the honeymoon was spent in Wales. 
The small menage was started in Mrs. Voysey's 
house ; but in September, 1861, the young couple 
took up their abode in the small house in Keate's 
Lane, just above Evans's ; and in the year following 
were able to move into the house opposite the 
Castle, now known as Baldwin's Bee. He was now 
the father of two sons, and a daughter was born 
April 6, 1864. But this happy prospect was soon 
overcast. At first all went favourably ; then there 
was a sudden change, and the mother died on the 
25th, and the daughter was very near death from 
whooping cough. The next year brought con- 

MEMOIR xiii 

solation, for on the very anniversary of his great 
sorrow, urged in spite of natural reluctance to go 
to a garden party, he met his future wife, Miss 
Charlotte Cordeaux, and they were married on the 
8th of August. 

A boating tour a la Stevenson on the Seine, 
with Sam Evans and Bros his brother-in-law, the 
following summer, was most enjoyable. In the 
high flood of March, 1867, he and Warre made 
use of an inflated india-rubber canoe to paddle 
about the fields, a very dangerous venture, as they 
confessed. In 1872 he moved to the house at the 
end of Keate's Lane ; but he was not to be there 
long. The Head Mastership of Cheltenham 
College was vacated by the appointment of Dr. Jex 
Blake to Rugby ; and he succeeded to the vacant 
post. He found it a most difficult one to fill. 
The school was in the hands of a company, not in 
any sense legally constituted, whose shareholders 
were only anxious that the value of their shares 
should not be impaired. 

But before leaving Eton, always to all a subject 
of regret, a few reminiscences of his time there 
may be inserted. He was an enthusiastic member 
of the Volunteer corps, and at the end of the book 
will be found a poem describing a vision of 
Quartermaster Hale in camp. Once, too, on a 
field day, the train being filled with Volunteers, 


and the guard crying " All right in front!" a 
voice from the other end of the platform was 
heard, No ; left behind ! " 

He was secretary to the Ascham Society, a sort 
of literary club, and his verses describing each 
campaign were a source of constant delight. They 
were signed " Sestertius," from his initials, H.S. 
Fragments will recall well-known figures to old 
Etonians, such as 

" consanguineus Wayti sopor " 
" porrigitur cani spatium admirabile Atlantis 
quern sua vix retinet corpora sella minor." 


" nescio quid Bellum meditatur, tuque Cicatrix (O scar) " ; 

" cornix < augur aquae,' ijv TaXe-V KaXeovcn Oeol a 



or such a note attached to the <c limen Eleusinium." 

"nempe per quod tirones in ipsum geometriae adytum 
admittuntur. Notum omnibus arbitror inscriptum illud ex 
Plat. frag, in cog. ovSei? ayew/xeT/oj/ro? etcriTa) Scite Schol. 
01 yap M efVioVre? ov STE^ANEYNTAI. Citra 
limen restitisse videtur Horatius, qui dixerit * Ad quartam 
iaceo ' ; Anglice, " / stick at the Fourth" 

which will recall Stephen Hawtrey's yuworra/, boys 
who could master the 4th Proposition. 


If some of the allusions are unintelligible to all 
but old Etonians, there is such a fund of wit, and 
so many happy phrases, that it seems a pity they 
should be abridged. His wit cannot be better 
described than by these lines in Aeneid, ii. 682-4 : 

ecce levis summo de vertice visus luli 
fundere lumen apex, tactuque innoxia molles 
lambere flamma comas et circum tempera pasci. 

This, too, is worth rescuing. When there were 
great illuminations in Windsor and Eton on the 
occasion of the marriage of the late King, he 
suggested to his colleagues that he should set in 
large letters in front of his house, which faced the 
Castle, " Nolo Episcopari." 

Here is the " menu " of an Eton dinner on the 
4th of June : 

Potage, Etang de Barnes. 

Saumon a la Brocas, Sauce, Cascade de Boveney. 
Agneau roti. Pr sal de Montem. 

Canetons, chateau de Surly. 
Pommes de terre' 
Petits pois 

Pouding a la Brozier. 

Getee a la Califano. 

Fromage Suisse en Bloc. 

Vins : Sherry, Hanoverian vintage, 1738. 

Champagne, Premier crA de Christopher. 

Burgundy, Chateau Botham. 

' j-au Savetier. 


To return to Cheltenham, and his entry on a 
new sphere of action, full of promise, as he felt ; 
but there were rocks in the way, of which he was 
little aware, and he was rather a daring manner 
than a skilful pilot. The present Dean of Lincoln, 
Dr. Fry, was an assistant at the College when he 
was appointed. His testimony goes straight to 
the heart of the matter. His difficulties arose 
from the innate sincerity of the man. Had he 
been less scrupulous, and faced the situation from 
a more worldly point of view, he would have dis- 
armed opposition. There were serious abuses to 
be corrected, and he threw himself vigorously into 
the task before him. But he expected support 
in such reform, and found only lukewarm adher- 
ence, and even opposition. A man of sensitive 
nature, he felt this most keenly. 

And this temperament led to a shyness and 
reserve which caused misunderstandings. Yet his 
natural cheerfulness upheld him, and, after a vain 
struggle against opposing influences, he was finally 
forced to resign his post in 1888. He would 
have been the last man to sanction a recapitulation 
of his troubles ; suffice it to say that when he 
retired he received presents from boys who were 
or had been under him, and the College concert 
gave an opportunity for hearty demonstration of 
loyalty and goodwill. If the modern side had not 

MEMOIR xvii 

been so successful latterly, he was in no way respon- 
sible, as the head ot it had been appointed by the 
Council. On the classical side, the success of the 
College at Oxford and Cambridge and the Indian 
Civil Service was most satisfactory. It would 
not be difficult to shew that he was unkindly, 
even unfairly, treated, and that while he was de- 
voting time and labour to the true interests of the 
school, he was consistently opposed and thwarted. 
But silence is golden in such matters, and time and 
reflexion may be trusted to correct false judgments. 

In 1880 he published an edition of the Eton 
Poetae Graeci^ a collection to which Swinburne 
attributed his early interest in the Greek language, 
and attended the funeral of his uncle, Frederick 
Oakeley, who joined the Roman Church in con- 
sequence of the " Oxford Movement," and lived 
a very ascetic life in a poor parish of Islington. 
The verses he wrote on the occasion are published 
at the end. 

A little property had been purchased by himself 
and some friends at Hallstatt, near Ischl, in the 
Tyrol, and here he spent the summer holidays. 

In 1 88 1 he was present at the Jubilee of the 
University Boat Race, at a dinner, in which the 
guests were arranged so that those who rowed at 
the same time were grouped together, Justice 
Chitty in the chair. 


Prince Louis Napoleon brought his son to the 
school in 1883, and the young prince was often 
with Kynaston's family. In 1886 it was arranged 
that Prince Francis of Teck should come as a 
pupil to the College, and on prize day the Duke 
and Duchess, with their daughter, the present 
Queen, came down. The Duke made a speech 
and the Duchess gave the prizes. 

In 1887 his daughter Marna was married to 
Howard Pease, son of J. W. Pease of Pendower, 
by the Bishop of Newcastle. His career at Chel- 
tenham ended happily with a performance of 
the Electra of Sophocles in the original Greek, in 
which he was aided by George Hawtrey. It was 
performed three nights running with great success. 
The music for the chorus was written expressly 
by Dr. Dyer. That his work at Cheltenham was 
not unappreciated is shewn by a dedication to his 
memory of an edition of the Phoenissae by J. N. 
Powell, fellow of S. John's College, Oxford, to 
his old master. 

On leaving Cheltenham he was offered by the 
Rt. Hon. W. H. Smith the living of S. Luke's, 
New Kentish Town, and he accepted the offer. 
The post was a difficult one ; the inhabitants were 
chiefly of the lower middle class, with one street 
of very poor neglected people. But he threw 
himself into the work with his accustomed energy, 


organizing a girls' Bible class, considering site and 
plans for a convenient parish room, taking the 
three hours' service on Good Friday, and pre- 
paring for confirmation, assisted by his son Willie, 
who had taken orders. At the same time he 
was occupied with the Newcastle examination at 
Eton. But this episode did not last long. On 
the 1 8th of July, to his great surprise and the 
relief of all the household, for illness was now 
causing great anxiety, the Bishop of Durham 
offered him the Greek professorship with the 
canonry of Durham attached to it. He had never 
even heard of the death of Canon T. Evans, 
his predecessor, who was a most accomplished 
scholar, and no better man could have been 
chosen to succeed him. It is said that at the 
time of his appointment no fewer than five senior 
classics were under consideration. He was sorry 
to leave his parish, though the work so far had 
not produced great results, but an organization 
had been started and matters put in train. He 
read himself in at Durham on October 13, chant- 
ing the whole service at evensong, being the first 
canon who had done this since the Reformation. 

His appointment was the last act of Bishop 
Lightfoot's episcopate. He had appointed the 
new canon to preach the ordination sermon on 

S. Thomas' Day, but on that day the news of the 
K b 


bishop's death reached him. He preached again 
in the Cathedral on Christmas Day. The bishop's 
body was brought to the Cathedral and laid in the 
Nine Altars on the 2 6th. The first part of the fune- 
ral service was held next day in the Cathedral, and 
the interment took place in the afternoon at Bishop 
Auckland in the chapel of the Castle the two 
archbishops and three hundred clergy being present. 

In the early part of 1890 Prince Francis of 
Teck, his old pupil, came to see him and visit the 

Bishop Westcott, who had been appointed 
to the see of Durham, was enthroned before 
an enormous crowd on May 15. In 1892 
Kynaston was busy editing Theocritus, and in 
1893 ne delivered lectures at Durham on the 
" History of the Greek Drama." They were 
largely attended, and created great interest. He 
illustrated them by translations, some of which 
are given in the appendix. 

He examined for the Newcastle Scholarships 
with the President of Magdalen in 1894. Later 
in the year, as sub-dean, he installed Dr. Kitchin 
in the deanery of Durham. 

He travelled in Italy two years before his death 
with Mrs. Kynaston, and revisited places he had 
not seen since his boyhood, and his diary shows 
his intense interest in all he saw. 


On his return from Italy the two attacks of 
giddiness occurred, which were really danger 
signals. After some rest, he again lectured, but 
was unable to complete the Easter Term's work 
of 1910, and on August ist died at Eastbourne. 


He began lecturing at Durham in October, 
1889, and in his new home resumed many of 
his old activities. For some time after his arrival 
he was frequently to be seen on the river form- 
ing one of a crew of ancient mariners, and 
when he gave up this arduous form of exercise he 
did not lose his interest in the sport : until the 
end of his life he constantly officiated on the banks 
as judge or referee at the boat-races, and it is worth 
recalling that after the Oxford and Cambridge Race 
in 1905 he presided at the dinner in the evening. 
Football also attracted him, and he was often an 
interested spectator of University or County 

A great Freemason he had always been, and in 
Durham he was one of the founders of Universities 
Lodge No. 2352, and with it he remained closely 
connected till his death. It was during his life in 
Durham that he became Grand Chaplain of England. 

His interest in music remained unabated. The 


musical evenings at his house in the College were 
a feature in Durham life for some years. A chant 
composed by him is among those in use at the 
Cathedral, and a hymn ("Father of Light"), of 
which the words are his, is in use at Cheltenham 
College, and was sung when he preached in the 
College Chapel in 1907. As a singer he occasion- 
ally appeared at the University concerts, and on 
Christmas Eve 1891 he with his children sang 
carols in the College and Bailey. It may safely be 
said that he was the first Canon of Durham to be 
so daring. Latterly he took part in launching a 
series of classical concerts at Newcastle-on-Tyne. 

He regarded seriously his connexion with the 
Cathedral, and his sermons, besides the value 
attaching to their matter, gained an added interest 
from their delivery, for his voice was clear and 
melodious. In addition to the work entailed by 
the Cathedral, Dr. Kynaston did much for the 
Penitentiary in the city, and for years was secretary 
of Bede College a training-college for school- 
masters. It might not be amiss to add here that 
he was a Unionist and a member of the Primrose 
League, and was always to the fore in the efforts 
made to advance the opinions which he had at 

His University work included some six or seven 
lectures a week in term time, besides the duty of 

MEMOIR xxiii 

examining. He was an able teacher of those who 
were willing to learn, but idlers would gain slight 
benefit from his lectures. He was ever ready, 
however, to give help to such as had scholarly 
instincts. Sometimes a member of his class would 
try conclusions with the professor, and never failed 
to be worsted when it came to a contest of wits, 
just as he would have been grassed if it had been 
a contest in the fields of scholarship. On one 
occasion in lecture the word bella happened to be 
mentioned. At this a member of the class, whose 
manners were clearly not sans reproche, observed to 
his neighbour, in a voice intended to be heard, 
" My girl's name's Bella." At which came from 
the professor as quick as lightning, " Ah ! Bella 
horrida bella" Another story may be told here. 
One night after Cathedral, about five o'clock, the 
Professor of Hebrew, who lived near to Kynaston, 
was going into his house with some pupils in cap 
and gown. Kynaston, coming up, said, " What is 
all this?" To which his neighbour replied, "Men 
coming in who have an interest in Hebrew. You 
couldn't get them to take an interest in Greek at 
this hour." " Hebrew, it looks more like Tea- 
brew," was Kynaston's comment. 

Occasionally the professor lectured outside the 
University, and in 1894, and again in 1898, gave 
courses which were very successful. The first 


was on the " History of the Greek Drama," with 
English readings from the dramatists concerned, 
and the second was on the " Greek Lyric Poets." 
In the first case most of the versions were from 
his own pen ; in the second, while he gave 
some renderings of his own, specimens were also 
given of other scholars' translations for instance, 
William Cory's Heracleitus. But Kynaston was 
himself a very ready and elegant translator ; and 
on one occasion, at the request of Dr. Armes, the 
Professor of Music, translated an Italian song into 
metre, which corresponded exactly with the music 
to which the original was set, in an incredibly short 
space of time. Specimens of his skill will be found 
in the Appendix. 

In University politics he took but slight interest, 
although he was in favour of the remodelling of the 
University, which took place in accordance with 
the provisions of the bill which came into force 
in 1909. 

On the whole, Dr. Kynaston's life in Durham 
was uneventful. It had nothing to disturb its even 
flow : his diary, more often than anything else, gives 
accounts of the meetings of friends and of family 
gatherings, both of which were clearly a source of 
the keenest pleasure to him. Two events may be 
singled out for record, though for different 
reasons. The first is the dinner given in 1907 to 


an old Eton master named Radcliffe on his resig- 
nation. Mr. Radcliffe had been Dr. Kynaston's 
own pupil, and it was a great happiness to him to 
preside, as pedagogic grandfather, at the farewell 
dinner given by his pupil's pupils to their master. 
In his own words, " the evening was delightful." 
In scenes like this Dr. Kynaston appeared at his 
best. The second is the tour in Italy which he 
took together with Mrs. Kynaston the year before 
his death. It was but the revisiting of old scenes 
in the light of more modern days ; but nevertheless 
his diary shews how much it was to him, and how 
keenly he enjoyed his travels. 

To those who got to know Dr. Kynaston after 
his arrival in Durham, the chief points which 
seemed to emerge were : first, a keen sense of 
humour, and a wit which at times could be trench- 
ant ; secondly, a shyness which almost hid the 
kindliness at the back of it; and lastly, the fact 
that the family was the centre of his life, just as he 
was the centre of the family life. Never was he 
seen to greater advantage than when at home 
in the midst of those who cared for him and for 
whom he cared. There it was that the reserve 
was broken down, shyness seemed to disappear, and 
to be replaced by an easy manner very winning to 
all who came under its influence. Those who 
never saw him in this his element, surrounded by 


wife and family, never knew the whole man, for 
they missed that side of him in which his real self 
shone forth most brightly. 


In Dr. Kynaston we had in Durham an example 
of Plato's pattern-man. He was strong, well-knit, 
good at athletic triumphs, while he had also an 
acute and vigorous mind, brightened by a nature 
that loved things beautiful, whether in music or in 
the other arts. His was a wonderful gift of 
languages ; his classical mind was just like some 
high polished marble column, graceful and beauti- 
ful, in place only in a temple of the higher 
learning, rather than in the friendly bustle of the 
busy market-place. 

To his prowess on the water, and his fine jewel 
of scholarship well-cut and bright, he added a 
delightful strain of pleasant and ready wit and a 
playful humour that was never sardonic, nor 
saturnine, nor even sarcastic, for these words have 
a bitter taste ; his was a humour kindly and 
amusingly satiric : and he passed his life in peace- 
ful harmonies of varying qualities ; he had strength 
without roughness ; his was a scholarship without 

In Dr. Kynaston's younger days at Cambridge 

MEMOIR xxvii 

he was a graceful athlete, an admirable oarsman ; 
and to the end he felt a lively interest in the 
boating world of Durham. 

His gifts of scholarship all now can admire in 
the graceful compositions he threw off, with an 
astonishing readiness and ease : they were the 
bright flowers of a sedulous cultivation of the 
fragrant garden of the Muses. 

One is apt to think of a scholar as of one intent 
on digging in the field of things dead and dusty : 
men like Bentley or Dean Gaisford, who had a 
formidable way of saying and doing rough things, 
which stung the sufferers without amending their 
faults. This was never Dr. Kynaston's way : 
though he was, at least, the fellow of these great 
men in scholarship, he never shewed his contempt 
for weaker men : there was in him no neglect of 
the courtesies of daily life. Yet, in his Durham 
days, he had many temptations toward harsh 
utterances. He had a ready wit, and the most 
humorous sense of the woeful shortcomings of 
the lads he had in his lectures. On the contrary, 
he was patient and forbearing toward those who 
came up with next to no knowledge of the simplest 
rudiments of classical lore. It was wonderful to 
see his gentleness with the blundering lads. Their 
mistakes must have set his teeth on edge. False 
concords, wrong quantities, stupid, careless tramp- 


ling on the plain rules of grammar, must have 
jarred daily on him ; yet he went on, teaching the 
very rudiments of scholarship to a set of indifferent 
or unwilling pupils. The contrast shewed itself 
to us when, from time to time, some young student 
displayed the makings of a scholar. These were 
not infrequently those women-students of the 
University, who could appreciate his fine classical 
teaching. The pleasure they gave him shewed 
what he had suffered from the contented ignorants. 
To these clever pupils he gave unusual care, and 
helped them to a bright success in the schools. 
He was always a staunch friend of woman's 
education ; for he knew (and his graceful daughters 
also shewed it to him) how eager women are at 
learning ; and how well they studied and made 
their books their own. 

In matters of religion he was always a strong 
Churchman : a man, nevertheless, of a fair and 
cool judgment in matters of doubt and difficulty. 
This shewed itself in his sermons ; they were 
always practical, avoiding controversial subjects ; 
with an exquisite English style he pleased all his 
hearers ; the words were graceful always, and 
interesting. And we could discern in his utter- 
ances a deeper and more sacred piety ; a glimpse 
of which could be seen in the love of spiritual 
things shewn by him, as, for example, by his 

MEMOIR xxix 

rendering and publishing the Gloria Paradisi of 

In all matters he shewed a good judgment, 
based on independent thought and fair considera- 
tion. He was not swept away by any temporary 
excitement ; and his opinion, as in the case of the 
late changes in the University of Durham, had 
great weight, and helped notably in carrying 
through in peace the reformation of the place. 
The volume which now appears will shew that 
Dr. Kynaston had in him the spirit and the beauty 
of the bright poets of the seventeenth century. 
His pieces are always graceful, blended too with a 
delightful half-acid humour ; he writes as one who 
saw many contrasts, and touched them with an 
understanding and friendly spirit. 

Throughout all his time he held the happy 
midway of a consistent life, brightened always by 
the circle of a clever and engaging family, and 
cheered by the refined and intelligent practice of 
music, at home and abroad. In the work now 
placed before his friends, we can see the more 
playful side of a true scholar ; we see that he had 
charming interests in life, and bore himself well 
towards the noisy world around him, a world 
too often intent on greed and self-advancement, 
a world proud of the privilege of ignorance, and 
the neglect of all those beautiful things which 


formed the happiness of our friend's long and 
useful life. 


I will try to give you very simply my impres- 
sions of Canon Kynaston. He came to Chelten- 
ham College in 1874, and in a few months I came 
to know him well. Few men who went through 
the experiences of a Cheltenham master in those 
days could fail to have his powers quickened in 
estimating character. The college had suffered 
from a quick succession of chiefs, and the chief 
whom he succeeded had suffered a good deal as a 
reformer. It is enough to say that there were 
some who did not sympathize with his reforming, 
while the division of the College into two depart- 
ments, Modern and Classical, created a diversity 
of supposed interests, and even generated an atmos- 
phere of intrigue. 

Hence Kynaston's difficulties were very great ; 
he was one of the least suspicious and the frankest 
of men. It was difficult for him to believe that 
this kind of thing existed. Had he been less 
considerate and less scrupulous, and more sus- 
picious had he, in fact, been less ethical he 
would have disarmed the opposition, unearthed 

MEMOIR xxxi 

the moles and slain them. The fact that he did 
not do so till much of their mischief was done, 
is the highest witness I can give to his being a 
true English gentleman from first to last. Any- 
where else, at Marlborough or Winchester, he 
would have been a success ; perhaps, indeed almost 
certainly, he would have been so at Cheltenham 
as it is. But then it was not possible to achieve 
a great success without a sacrifice of that belief in 
human sincerity that makes life worth living. 

Yet up to the time I left Cheltenham in 1883 
the discipline was greatly improved, and the entry 
of that year was one of the best I ever remember. 
For myself I can only say that I never dealt with 
a straighter or kinder mind. 

But my memory goes back with greater glad- 
ness to Kynaston in his home. As a husband, a 
father, and a host he was delightful. As soon as 
you got past a certain shyness (how seldom one 
meets with it ; how inestimable it is !), you found 
the purity, the charity of the man. Fortune had 
dealt him heavy blows : he never complained. 
In a sorrow of my own he wrote to me tenderly 
of his own experiences, revealing to my grief the 
depth of his own past feeling. And withal he 
was full of humour and chaff and lightness of 
touch, without the slightest element of malice or 
unkindness. He even forgave many who had 


chosen to misrepresent him. At Durham he must 
have been a factor of peace. 

I should sum up best, I think, by saying that 
not many outside his intimate circle really knew 
him : all who knew him loved him. 

EXETER, April 29, 1911. 

I always found in Dr. Kynaston a kind and 
cordial friend ; he was not a very easy man to 
draw out into unreserved expressions of opinion ; 
one of his colleagues in the Durham Chapter 
spoke of him to me as "inscrutable." But while 
slow to betray his opinions he was very conscien- 
tious in forming them, and when thoroughly 
formed they did not fail of expression or effect. 

We knew him fairly intimately at Durham, and 
I was always struck by the evidently strong ties 
of family affection which bound the household 

His powers of composition, humorously directed 
to current topics of University and social life, not 
only gave us all pleasure, but sometimes did real 
good by seasoning novel or trying "situations" with 
a touch of saving humour. 

As a churchman, he struck me by his simple 

MEMOIR xxxiii 

devoutness. His general theological tone was that 
of a scholarly conservatism, rather than that of a 
keenly critical or speculative mind. 

I hope the above notes may be of some use to 

Very truly yours, 


NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE, May 6, 1911. 


Canon Kynaston was one of my kindest friends 
in the North. He called upon me almost imme- 
diately after my arrival, and gave me the pleasantest 
and most cordial welcome. His love of Music, 
which I share, made a bond of alliance between us ; 
and I used often to meet him at the concerts of 
the two Chamber Societies in Newcastle. When the 
University of Durham was reconstituted (by the 
Act of 1909) he was one of its first elected mem- 
bers of Senate, and though he did not often speak 
he carried great weight in the discussions. He 
had a remarkable gift of seeing straight to the point 
of a question, and so helping us to keep clear of 
unimportant or accidental issues ; and his ready 
sense of humour sometimes saved a situation that 


might have been endangered by controversy. His 
death was a heavy loss not only to the University 
at large, but to all those of its members who were 
brought into any personal contact with him. 

Yr. very truly, 





Idyll ill. 

AMARYLLIS while I court and sing, 

O'er the hills my goats with Tityrus feed : 
Tend them, Tityrus, lead them to the spring, 

Well-beloved comrade ; but take heed, 
Yon grey Libyan butts with spiteful horn. 

Amaryllis, charmer, from thy cave 
Why no longer peering ? dost thou scorn 

Him thou called'st darling? in thy sight 

Seem I grown goat-featured ? hapless wight. 

Nought from hanging then this neck can save. 
Apples ten I bring thee from that tree 

Whence thou bad'st me pluck them, other ten 
Shall be thine to-morrow : only see 

How my heart is aching. To thy den 
Like yon buzzing bee oh might I fly 

Through thine ivy shroud and veil of fern ! 

Now I know Love's power : ah me ! how stern ! 
Certes in some copse he erst did lie 
Lioness-suckled : now my inmost heart 
Feels the fiery anguish of his dart. 
Lovely vision, stony-hearted, kiss, 

Black browed sweetheart, clasp thy goatherd 
swain : 


Sweet, however transient, were such bliss ! 

See, this ivy-wreath, I keep in vain, 
Amaryllis, wilt thou bid me rend ? 
'Twas for thee I made these rosebuds blend 
Odours sweet with fragrant parsley twined. 
Well-a-day, no answer! luckless hind! 
Doff thy cloak, and 'neath yon billows leap 
Where the ancient fisherman doth keep 
Watch for tunnies : so her wilful pride, 
Though thou die not, may be gratified. 
This I knew when naming thee I struck 
Poppy leaves for omens of my luck, 
Yet without a sign the sorry charm 
Withered noiselessly upon my arm : 
Truly too th' old fortune-teller spake, 

She who gathered up the new-mown hay, 
That thou scorn'st me, pining for thy sake. 

Now my milk-white goat I'll give away, 
Kept for thee, twin-suckling, (for the prize 

Mermno's nut-brown maid is longing sore) 

Since thou giv'st not thy coquetting o'er. 
Ah ! my right eye throbs ! may I surmise 

I shall see her ? I will lie and sing 

'Neath the pine-tree haply then she'll fling 
Just a glance, for she's not adamant. 

Racing for a bride, Hippomenes 
Won by aid of apples Atalant. 
Deep in love she plunged : ah ! fell disease ! 
The Othryan herd Melampus stole, 
And Bias might entrance his soul 

With Alphesiboea's mother fair : 
Aye, Adonis too, a shepherd boy 


Cytherea with such wild despair 
Frenzied, that e'en death's annoy 
Could not tear his mem'ry from her breast. 
Sleeps Endymion in unbroken rest ; 
Joys lasion knew to ears profane 

Unrevealed ; ah ! happy, happy pair. 
Though my fevered brow be racked with pain, 

Little dost thou reck : I will forbear- 
Wolves shall tear me fainting here 'twill be 
Sweet as honey's taste, I trow, to thee. 

Zermatt, Sept. 1868. 


Idyll vi. 

DAMOETAS once and Daphnis to one spot 
Their cattle drove : on one youth's earliest down 
Showed auburn, half the other's beard was grown 
Here, as the summer's noontide sun was hot, 
They sat together by a bubbling spring, 
And Daphnis first as challenger 'gan sing 

"See Galatea pelts thy flocks 
With apples, Polypheme, and mocks 
The coldness of the goatherd's heart 
While thou unheeding sit'st apart 
Serenely piping. See again 
She pelts the dog that follows thee 
Watching thy sheep ; he barks amain 
And gazes fiercely tow'rd the sea, 


Where, as he wildly scampers o'er 
The laughing pebbles of the shore, 
The glassy waves her form reveal, 

But, when she comes to land, beware 
Lest he rush on with angry zeal 

And ruthlessly her ankles tear. 
See how coquettishly she moves ; 

How like the wavering thistle-down 

By summer's sultry pantings blown 
Hither and thither : him who loves 
She flies, and who loves not, pursues, 
And fails no coy device to use : 
For oft to lovers, Polypheme, 
Unlovely things do lovely seem." 

He ceased, and thus Damoetas answering sang : 

" By Pan, I saw her pelt my sheep : 

She 'scaped not my dear single eye 
Whose sight I ever hope to keep 
Spite of that envious prophecy : 
(On him who uttered it may all 
Its bane, and on his children fall ! ) 
I too, to vex her, never deign 
To notice her soft glance, but feign 
I have some other love ; but she 
Pines at this news for jealousy, 
And starting frenzied from the waves 
Peeps stealthily through folds and caves. 
As for the dog, with hiss and sign 

I set him on to growl and snap ; 
For when I wooed her, he would whine 

And nuzzle fondly in her lap. 


So, seeing oft how I'm inclined, 
Maybe she'll send a message kind ; 
But I'll keep close, until she swear 

To wed me in this very isle. 
Whate'er men say, I'm passing fair, 

For lately when the sea did smile 
I saw by that clear mirror's aid 

How handsome was my flowing beard, 

How handsome my one eye appeared, 
As I the estimation made ; 
And for my teeth, they whiter shone 
Than glistening blocks of Parian stone. 
But that no evil might betide 
Self-admiration's foolish pride, 
Into my smock three times I spat : 
Old dame Cotyttaris taught me that!" 

Damoetas kissed his rival, as this stave 

He ended, and his pipe to Daphnis gave, 

Took in exchange a flute : each straightway lipped 

His welcome gift and breathed sweet melodies, 
While on the velvet sward the heifers skipped : 

So neither won and neither lost the prize. 

Zermatt, Sept. 1868. 


Idyll xi. 

"Ip right my judgment, Nicias, there's no cure 
For Love nor salve nor sprinkled drug so sure 


As Music : light's the remedy and kind 

In man's employ, but somewhat hard to find. 

So did at least the Cyclops of our isle, 

Old Polypheme, at ease his hours beguile, 

When Galatea's love he sought to win, 

The down just blooming on his cheek and chin. 

His was no apple-courtship, with a rose 

Or ringlet fostered, but with passionate throes 

Of furious frenzy : all was set aside 

For this : his sheep came oft at eventide 

Unshepherded from pasture to the fold, 

While on the reedy strand he, unconsoled, 

Sat singing Galatea from the morn. 

By such a cruel wound his heart was torn 

Of mighty Venus, where her shaft struck home. 

And yet he found the cure ; and o'er the foam 

Of Ocean gazing, from his rock thus sang : 

' Why, Galatea, flout a lover's pang? 

Thy cheek is creamier than cheese of kine : 
No fleecy lamb so tender ; 

No sprightly heifer's frolics rival thine, 
Early grapes have no such splendour. 

Com'st thou now as ever, only while I sleep, 

Fleest at my waking, as a sheep 
Flees the grey wolf's eye ? ah maid, I love thee still, 

As I loved, when thou wast wont to fill 

Maunds with lilies from the hill, 

Tripping at my mother's side 

Following me thy trusty guide. 
Since that hour on thee I cannot cease to gaze ; 
But thou heedest not my misery. 
Well I know, fair maiden, why 


Thou dost shun me : for my face displays 
One long straggling eyebrow's bristly ridge, 

Linking ear with ear : shrouding one eye ; 
And above my lip a nose's bridge 

Broadly flattened and upturned doth lie. 

Such my portrait yet withal, 

Herds a thousand mine I call, 

Milk the richest thence I drain : 

Summer's heat nor winter's rain 

Hinders e'er my cheeses' store, 

Brimming baskets o'er and o'er. 

None can pipe so skilfully 

'Mong the Cyclops race as I, 

When I, in the gloom of night, 

Thee, my sweetest heart's delight, 

With myself in song unite. 

Fawns eleven I rear for thee, 

Collars wearing daintily : 

Bear-cubs four thy pets shall be. 

Come then where I wait thee come : 

Share the pleasures of my home : 

Let the grey sea all alone 

Landward fling its dreary moan : 
Seek within my cave a sweeter resting-place 
Where are bays and cypress foliage fine, 
Ivy dark and luscious vine ; 

Where my icy stream comes trickling down 

Wooded Etna's gift ambrosial, fed 

By his glistening glacier-bed. 

Who would such content refuse, 

And a billowy Ocean choose ? 


Think'st thou then my face too bristly rough 
doth shew ? 

Still my oak logs 'neath their embers glow : 

Singe me nay, I e'en desire 

With thy love to set my very soul on fire. 

And my single eye, than which to me 

Nought more loveable may be. 

Woe is me! 

Had I but been amphibious born, 

I'd have dived and kissed thy hand, if pride 

Still thy coral lips denied. 

Snowdrops I'd have brought thee that thou 

should' st not scorn, 

Poppies too, whose leaves of scarlet hue, 
Tell if love be false or true. 

Come then, Galatea, come : 

And, as I am fain to do, 

Sitting here forget thy home, 

By thy comrade kind and true. 

Lead with me my flocks afield. 

Take what their full udders yield- 
Shape the cheeses deftly made 

With the curdling rennet's aid. 
'Tis my mother wrongs me : she's alone to blame 
That she cares no kindly plea in my cause to frame, 
Yet she sure hath seen me day by day, 
Pining hopelessly away. 

I must speak and tell her how 

Throb my feet and aching brow, 

That she too may feel the grief 

Which in me is past relief. 
Out upon such silly grieving! 


Cyclops, why thy senses leaving? 
Weave thy baskets as of yore, 
Feed thy lambs with new-mown hay : 
This will prove thy wisdom more. 
Heed not love that flies away, 
But the ewes which wait thy care : 
Galateas just as fair 
May be courted everywhere. 
Many maids at eventide 
Bid me frolic by their side- 
Merrily laugh when I complied : 
Plain it is that here on earth 
I am reckoned something worth. 5 
'Twas thus in song for love the Cyclops sought 
A readier cure than golden fee had bought." 


" MY son, the sole disposal of all things 
Rests with the thund'rer Zeus, the King of kings 
No reason dwells with mortals, but we spend 
Our lives like animals from day to day, 
Not knowing the divinely-purposed end. 
Trusting vain hope we go our reckless way 
With wasted effort : for the morrow some 
Impatient wait others for years to come. 
Of mortals there is none who reckons not 
Next year to win a richer, happier lot : 
But some, ere yet the envied goal they reach, 
Old age prevents ; or to untimely bier 


Disease drags down : some in the deadly breach 
And storm of battle fall in mid career ; 
Or cast away upon the storm-tost wave 
Where whirlwinds bluster, find a wat'ry grave : 
Others with suicidal hand are fain 
To tie the noose that cuts the life in twain. 
So no mishap is lacking countless woes 
Hang o'er us, and misfortune's crushing blows. 
Good were it not to count them better 'twere 
With spirit undaunted the assault to bear." 


* ' Now sleep the mountain peaks and gullies deep : 

Ravines and headlands sleep : 
The creeping things of earth, and leafy trees 
The beasts that range the hills the work-worn 


The monsters of the deep are all at rest, 
And weary wings are folded on the nest." 


"IT is the settled doom. The God's decree 
Eternal, sealed of old by mighty oaths, 
That whatsoever soul of mortal man 
With life immortal gifted, shall consume 


The flesh of life, and stain its host with blood, 
For thrice ten thousand years shall be exiled 
To pass through divers forms of living things. 
Thus have I too been driven an exile forth, 
A soul rebellious, from the God's domain. 
The realms of air must chase me to the sea, 
The sea upon the land will cast me up, 
The land will toss me to the flaming Sun, 
The Sun again into the eddying air 
From one to th' other hurled and spurned by all." 

"THEY knew no God of War nor Prince of Strife, 
No Zeus nor Kronos nor Poseidon reigned : 

Only the Cyprian Queen. 
Her they appeased with votive offerings, 
Life-like designs, scents cunningly distilled, 
Incense, and unadulterated myrrh, 
And honey's gold libation poured on earth. 
But with no blood of bulls her altar streamed ; 
For then 'twas held abomination vile 
To spill a life and feed on solid flesh." 


MIGHTY God Poseidon, thee I sing, 

Girder of the Earth, of Ocean King, 

Golden trident brandishing. 


Round thee sport in joyous rout, 

Lightly leaping, gleaming, glancing, 
Tossing in their finny dancing 

Bristly mane and flattened snout, 

Dolphins, whom the Muse enthrals 
Playmates 'neath the briny waters 
Chasing Amphitrite's daughters 
In the Nereids' Halls. 

These bore me to the coast of Pelops' isle 
On their curved backs uplifted, 

Cleaving the furrows of a pathless plain, 
On perilous voyage I drifted, 

Cast by treacherous seamen's guile 
Into the darkling main." 


' THE steeds that bore me far as soul can reach, 
Bore me along the far famed road which leads 
To her who holds the keys of all th' unknown. 
Such was my course, as the wise horses drew 
My chariot : but those Maidens guided me, 
The Sun's fair daughters, from the halls of gloom 
Into the Light, their faces all unveiled. 
Shrill screamed the glowing axle in the nave 
As the twin wheels on either side revolved 
With speed of progress. Then we neared the gates 
Which close the opposite ways of Night and Day, 
Twofold, on marble threshold resting each 
Aloft in air, and blocked with massy doors 


Of which stern Justice holds the double key. 
The Maidens spake her softly, with intent 
That she might draw the bolted barrier back, 
And set the entrance free. Then opened wide 
The yawning passage, as th' obedient gates 
Within their sockets knit with welded bolts 
On brazen pivots wheeled. Straight through the 

g a P 
The Maidens led my steeds along the track : 

And the great Goddess greeted me, and clasped 

My hand in hers, and thus in welcome spake : 

' Fair youth, whose steeds have borne thee to our 


To charioteers immortal thou'rt allied : 
Welcome ! since no ill fate escorted thee 
Upon this track, so far from haunts of men, 
But Right and Justice : 'tis thy task to learn 
The genuine essence of convincing Truth, 
And all the spurious theories of men. 
This twofold lesson shalt thou learn, and shew 
Thyself approved and tested through the world.' " 

' WHEN o'er the grey sea gently breathes the wind, 
My drooping spirits keen allurement find 
In that calm flood, more pleasing than the shore. 
But when white-crested waves begin to roar, 
And curling breakers race with scattered foam, 
Then turn I shudd'ring tow'rds my inland home, 
Where welcome shades of sheltering woodland 

And pine-trees sing, voiced by the rising breeze. 


How hard, methinks, the fisherman's employ, 
Housed in his lonely bark, in hourly toil 
Seafaring, for a hard earned finny spoil. 
Nay, better far sweet slumber to enjoy, 
Beneath the plane-tree's clustering cool leaves to 


Hearing the stream hard by that babbling flows, 
Troubles me not, but hushes to repose." 


4 'SWEPT is the floor: clean cups meet washen 

And garlands deftly turned are bright : 
Flanked by rich boxes of sweet unguent stands 

The jovial bowl of mixed delight. 
A mellower wine in jars, that never fail, 

Around its rare aroma flings, 
While odours of sweet frankincense we hail, 

And water drawn from icy springs. 
At hand are yellow loaves and table spread 

With cheese and honey from the comb : 
The altar's thick with flowers garlanded, 

And music fills the festive home. 

44 But man's first duty 'tis to offer praise 

To God with reverent address, 
With due libation praying that their ways 

Be paths of justice, not excess. 
Who needs an escort home, has drunk too deep, 

So he be not infirm and old ; 


He's within bounds who can his memory keep 
And set his speech in serious mould 

Who will not of old threadbare fables prate 
Of Giants' war or Titans' flight, 

Or savage riot : such themes all good men hate. 
Who reverence the Gods aright." 


"WITH Peace comes wealth to mortals, and rare 

Of sweet voiced song ; 

And all along 

The row of decorated altars steams 
Odour of offered victims, bulls and sheep, 

While braves in verse 

Their feats rehearse, 

And to the sound of flutes their revels keep. 
Across the handles of our iron-bound shields 

The * long-legged spinners ' weave : 

Our swords and spears we leave 
To rust and tarnish : o'er the quiet fields 

No brazen trumpet's pealing 

From weary eyes is stealing 

The heart's consoler, sleep ; 

But holiday we keep 

In happy festive throng, 

And kindle love with song." 


" How strong the force and yet how sweet, that in 

the goblet dancing 
Warms all the soul and stirs the mind with hopes 

and thoughts entrancing! 
The Queen of Love and King of Wine their gifts 

together mingle, 
And dreams exhilarate the blood and make it glow 

and tingle : 

For one in fancy breaches walls of cities he besieges 
Another wears a monarch's crown and makes all 

men his lieges : 
With glittering ivory and gold the walls are thickly 

And argosies come sailing up with rich abundance 

With corn from Egypt's fertile plains, white winged 

in stately leisure : 
Ah ! flushed with wine the toper's heart is steeped 

in dreams of pleasure." 


"HEALTH, of all th' Immortals best, 
Would that I with thee might live, 
Entertain thee as my guest, 
All the years the Fates may give ! 
All the blessings Wealth can shower, 
Or the pomp of regal power, 
Rivalling the Gods above- 
All the wedded bliss of Love 


Aphrodite's captives know 
All that children's smiles bestow 
Every joy or well-earned rest, 
Which from Heav'n hath mortals blessed, 
Health, with thee they all abound, 
Bright'ning in thy Graces' Spring : 
Only 'neath thine angel wing, 
Can true joy be found ! " 


YE shepherds, who along these ridgy banks 

Your goats and fleecy flocks to pasture guide, 
To please the Shadow-Queen some gift of thanks 

In tribute to Cleitagoras provide. 
To me, in answer to the bleating flock, 
Pipe softly, shepherd, seated on the rock : 
Let rustic maids, to deck my tombstone, bring 
A garland of the first wild-flowers of spring ; 
And some kind hand the ewe's full udder press, 

A rich libation from that source to shed 
Over my resting place : such tenderness 

Earns grateful thanks, aye earns them from 
the dead." 

"His lengths of rod, and hooks of bended steel, 
The baskets where he packed his finny prey, 

His fisherman's device, the osier creel, 
That leads the scaly wanderers astray 


His three-pronged gaff like to Poseidon's spear 
His pair of oars, from rowlocks now removed 

Old Diophantus offers of his gear 

These to the patron of the art he loved." 


''HUSHED be on Dryads' wooded rock the rills, 

And hushed the bleatings on the meads, 
Now Pan his pipe with breath melodious fills 

And kisses with moist lip the reeds ; 
While, treading nimble dances all around, 
Dryads and Hamadryads beat the ground." 

'* WITHIN the shady grove we chanced to peep, 
And caught Cythera's rosy boy asleep : 
None of his brave artillery had he, 
But bow and quiver hung upon a tree ; 
While he on rosebuds smiling lay, in warm 
Slumber fast bound ; and o'er his lips a swarm 
Of honey bees laid sweets and wrought no 


" STILL my tears for thee unceasing flow : 
Still, though thou art laid below, 
These affection's ling'ring drops I pour, 

Heliodore ! 


Bitter tears : which shed, while yet they lave 
This thy lamentable grave, 
Wild regrets that love's fond mem'ries store, 

Heliodore ! 

Piteously for love among the dead 
Meleager's heart hath bled, 
Heaping sighs on Acheron's thankless shore, 

Heliodore ! 

Well-a-day ! my darling blossom's stem 
Death hath snapped and plucked the gem : 
Dust hath marred a bud that blooms no more, 

Heliodore ! 

Lightly under thine enriching mould 
To a mother's breast enfold, 
Earth, I pray thee, her whom all deplore, 


"LOVE'S a rascal, I say: and I'll say it again, 
And again Love's a rascal : it helps not my pain : 
He but laughs when in scolding my tongue I 


And chuckles with pleasure and thrives on abuse. 
I marvel how, Venus, just sprung from the wave, 
From that element birth to a firebrand you gave.'' 



14 THE pencil that once freely traced the line 

Along the ruler's straight and even side 
The blade that shaped the reed-pen's edges fine 

The ruler too, the hand's unswerving guide 
The rugged pumice-stone, whose rasping kiss 

Sharpened the blunted reed-pen's double lip 
The sponge, uptorn from Neptune's deep abyss, 

To cleanse the text from accidental slip 
The desk of many cells, that did contain 

His ink, and all materials of his trade 
The scribe to Hermes gives. After long strain, 

Palsied by age, his hand to rest is laid." 


" SHE'S come she's here the swallow, whom 
lovely seasons follow, 

And many a lovely year : 

Her breast is gleaming white, her back as dark as 

So open without fear, 
Turn out the cake and cheese and wine, 
Nor barley cake nor oatmeal she'll decline. 

ANON. 23 

We'll take what you give, or off we go, 
Say you * yes,' or say you ' no ' ? 

If it's ' no,' your door or your lintel we'll harry 
Or the good wife sitting within, 
For she's so slender and thin 
Her weight we shall lightly carry. 

But if you grant our modest prayer, 
May you some richer guerdon share ! 
So open locks the swallow knocks ; 

It is not old men grey, but children sing this lay." 

"THE crooked bow and arrow-spending case 
Promachus hangs in this most holy place, 
Phoebus, to thee. The shafts remain apart, 
For each is buried in a foeman's heart." 

[ AVERT the share, restrain the steer, 
Oh husbandman, that ploughest here : 
The ground where warriors rest 'tis meet 
To sow with tears, in place of wheat." 

' ' SAY, eagle, wherefore from this tomb upspringing 
Thou cleavest tow'rd some starry home thy way ? " 
" I am the soul of Plato, heav'nward winging 
Though Attic soil yet holds his lifeless clay." 


"A SNAKE once on a Cappadocian 
Its deadliest venom tried : 
Was the man killed? Dismiss the notion 
The snake it was that died ! " 


Scene THE SCHOOL (Enter Metrotlme^ hauling Kottalus). 

GOOD luck befall you at the Muses' hands, Lam- 
priscus, and a good spell of happy life, if you'll just 
take this vagabond and score him down the back 
within an inch of his rascally life. He's just about 
ruined me with his gambling at pitch and toss : for 
he's not satisfied with plain knuckle-bones, but goes 
in for something bigger in the way of mischief. 
He couldn't tell me where the door of the Clerk's 
office is (where I have to go when the hateful 
month's at an end to pay the fees, though I may 
cry my eyes out) but as for the gambling-place, 
where all the cadgers and tramps resort, he can shew 
any stranger the way there. Then his unfortunate 
tablets, which I have the bother of waxing every 
month, lie neglected behind the bed-post against 
the wall, save when occasionally he takes them, 
looks at them with murderous eyes and, you may 
be sure, writes nothing proper on them, but scrapes 
them all bare. Yet his knuckle-bones, as they lie 
about among our nets and bladders, are kept shinier 
than our oil flask, which is in constant use. He 


does not even know the name of the vowel #, unless 
one shouts it at him five times. Why, only the 
other day his father was teaching him to read the 
name Maron, and this beauty would call it Simon : 
so that I call myself a fool for not having brought 
him up as a donkey-boy, instead of putting him to 
school in hopes of having help from him in bad 
times. And whenever I and his dad (poor old man, 
he's half blind and deaf!) try to get him to recite 
a piece, he lets it dribble out word by word, like 
water out of a leaky jug (to Kot.) I tell you, 
even your Grannie could say it for you, and she's 
not had much of an education : aye, or just an 
ordinary slave. Yes, and if we try to go further 
than that with him, he'll either stay away from home 
for three days and be the death of his poor old 
widowed Grannie, or he'll sit and dangle his legs on 
top of the roof, peering down just like a monkey, 
and that does just give me the spasms, I can tell 
you : not that that's the worst of it, but all the tiles 
are broken up like so much biscuit, and when winter 
comes, there goes 2-|d. for every tile ; for there's a 
general outcry from the whole lodging-house. 
" Ah! that's the work of Metrotime's young Kot- 
talus." True enough so that I can't wag my 
tongue against it. As for the 7th and 2oth days 
of the month, he knows them better than the 
almanac makers, and he doesn't lie abed when he 
remembers that it's holiday time. So, may the 
Muses give you all blessings, Lampriscus, and may 
no less 

LAMP. That's enough, Metrotime, never mind 


your invocation : he shall get all you wish. Hallo 
there Euthies you fellows Kokkalus Phillos, 
look sharp and hoist him up are you you waiting 
for the full moon, like Akesaeus ? A pretty lot of 
mischief you've been at, master Kottalus, so you're 
not satisfied, eh? with playing at knuckle-bones 
like the rest, but must go pitch and tossing with the 
cadgers. I'll make you as quiet as a good little 
girl, so that you won't stir a feather. You there ! 
where' s my stinger the bull's tail, as you call it 
with which I touch up the special cases? Give it 
here, some one, before I choke with rage ! 

KOTT. Oh! please, Lampriscus, I pray you by 
the Muses, by your beard, by your own dear life, 
don't tan me with the stinger, but with the other 

LAMP. You are a good-for-nothing scamp, Kot- 
talus. No one who wanted to sell you could 
recommend you even in that country where rats 
gnaw iron. 

KOTT. Say, how many are you going to give 

LAMP. Don't ask me, ask her. 

KOTT. Mammie, how many am I to have ? 

MET. As I hope to live, you shall have as many 
as your rascally hide can bear. 

KOTT. Oh! stop that's enough, master! 

LAMP. Well, then, do you stop playing pranks? 

KOTT. I'll not do it again, I swear by the dear 

LAMP. What a tongue the boy's got! I'll put 
the gag on you if you say a word more. 


KOTT. There, Pve done : oh ! don't kill me ! 

LAMP. Let him go now, Kokkalus. 

MET. No, no, Lampriscus, you ought to go on 
hiding him till sunset. 

LAMP. But he is already as striped as a water- 

MET. Nay, he wants a good twenty more, the 

KOTT. (released) Yah ! yah ! 



ABIDE with me ; fast falls the even-tide ; 
The darkness deepens ; Lord, with me abide ; 
When other helpers fail, and comforts flee, 
Help of the helpless, O abide with me. 

Swift to its close ebbs out life's little day ; 
Earth's joys grow dim, its glories pass away ; 
Change and decay in all around I see ; 

Thou, who changest not, abide with me. 

1 need Thy Presence every passing hour ; 

What but Thy grace can foil the tempter's power ? 
Who like Thyself my guide and stay can be ? 
Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me. 

I fear no foe with Thee at hand to bless ; 
Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness ; 
Where is death's sting? Where, Grave, thy 

victory ? 
I triumph still, if Thou abide with me. 



CHRISTE, mecum commorare, 
vesper cadens obumbrare 

diem coepit tenebris : 
ope qui iuvas egentes, 
unus qui levas dolentes, 
inopes precamur, flentes, 

commorare praesto sis ! 

brevis ad occasum lucis 
cito gaudiis caducis 

transit vitae gloria : 
pereunt, marcent terrena 
in dies mutatur scena 
hospitem te posco, plena 

quern non mutant saecula. 

tua in horas nisi datur 
praesens gratia, grassatur 

totus in me Satanas : 
tua cunctis praestat cura 
ad Salutem perductura : 
per aprica, per obscura 

hospes mecum maneas. 

nusquam hostis, te adstante ; 
rident damna, te levante ; 

nullus angor lacrimis. 
mortis acies retusa, 
victrix Orci vis est fusa, 
porta gloriae reclusa, 

dum tu hospes praesto sis. 


Hold Thou Thy Cross before my closing eyes ; 
Shine through the gloom, and point me to the 

skies ; 
Heaven's morning breaks, and earth's vain shadows 

In life, in death, O Lord, abide with me. 

H. F. LYTE. 


IT came upon the midnight clear, 

That glorious song of old, 
From angels bending near the earth 

To touch their harps of gold : 
"Peace on the earth, good will to men 

From heaven's all-gracious King : " 
The world in solemn stillness lay 

To hear the angels sing. 


oculis praetende Crucem 
moribundis. Caeli lucem 

per tenebras exhibe : 
terra solvitur vanescit 
umbra fugax illucescit 
vera dies, en! repente 
cum vivo, cum moriente 

commorare, Domine ! 



Caelitus quondam defluxit, 
media quo nox illuxit, 

melos illud inclutum 
solito propinquiorum 
terrae lyris Angelorum 

aureis psalterium. 
"Regis en benigni dona 
pax in terris regnet bona 

sit voluntas homini ! " 
haec, dum secum verecundus 
per silentium audit mundus, 

concinebant Angeli. 


Still through the cloven skies they come 

With peaceful wings unfurl' d : 
And still their heavenly music floats, 

O'er all the weary world : 
Above its sad and lowly plains 

They bend on hovering wing, 
And ever o'er its Babel-sounds 

The blessed angels sing. 

Yet with the woes of sin and strife 

The world has suffered long ; 
Beneath the angel-strain have rolled 

Two thousand years of wrong ; 
And men, at war with men, hear not 

The words of peace they bring : 
Oh, listen now, ye men of strife, 

And hear the angels sing. 

Oh ye, beneath life's crushing load 
Whose forms are bending low, 

Who toil along the climbing way 
With painful steps and slow ; 


quin et hodie pacatis 
per cedentem explicatis 

aethera alls devolant ; 
unde cantus numerosi 
defluentes aerumnosi 

curam mundi recreant : 
alites casti terrenis 
campis et dolore plenis 

incubant aetherii, 
dum strepentium immitem 
temperant linguarum litem 

concinentes Angeli. 

attamen diu peccatis 
iurgiisque provocatis 

aegrotavit saeculum : 
annos fere iam bis mille 
per iniquos cantus ille 

resonavit caelitum ; 
at rixantur secum gentes 
improbae, non audientes 

caritatis numeros. 
O tandem composta lite 
male rixantes audite 

concinentes Angelos. 

vosque, vitae iam defessi 
onere, taediis oppressi, 

queis solvuntur genua, 
ardua dum laboratis 
et gradu lento cessatis 

per dolores in via, 
K c 


Look now, for glad and golden hours 

Come swiftly on the wing : 
Oh rest beside the weary road, 

And hear the angels sing. 

For lo, the days are hastening on, 

By prophets seen of old, 
When with the ever-circling years 

Shall come the time foretold, 
When the new heaven and earth shall own 

The Prince of Peace their King, 
And the whole world send back their song 

Which now the angels sing. 



exspectate potiora 
aureis quae pennis hora 

tempora fert gaudii : 
licet hie fessis morari 
et melos audire, cari 

concinunt quod Angeli. 

nam dies festinant vere 
quos Prophetae cecinere, 

instat aetas aurea, 
quam restituent Felices 
aevi revolventis vices, 

et per terram pristina 
Pax effundet renovatum 
iubar, ut per orbem latum 
melos sonet iteratum 

concinunt quod Angeli ! 

XMAS. 1882. 



Gloria Paradisi. Damien. 


FOR the Fount of living waters panting, like the 
weary hart, 

Prison'd beats my soul its barriers, madly striving 
to depart ; 

Walks about, and frets, and struggles homes for- 
saken to regain, 

Drags at each remove untravell'd, pilgrim still, a 
lengthened chain : 

Pines the blessing by transgressing lost to earth, 
in dreary mood, 

Bitter makes a present sorrow thinking of departed 


Who can count the rays of glory, jewell'd on the 
Priestly vest, 

Where, with living pearls uplifted, soar the man- 
sions of the blest ? 

Roofs all gold, and golden couches for the saintly 
presence meet, 

Gold, like crystal seas pellucid, shining pathways 
for their feet ; 


Only gems the star-light fabric " fitly join'd 
together" hold, 

Nought that staineth now remaineth in the un- 
polluted fold. 


Winters horrid, summers torrid, vex no more the 
stilly clime, 

But the purple bloom of roses sheds an everlasting 
prime ; 

Pales the lily, glows the crocus, balms their drowsy 
sweets distil, 

Smile the meadows, sing the corn-fields, honied 
dew-drops swell the rill ; 

Odorous clouds of fragrant incense spice the aro- 
matic breeze, 

Autumn's fruits, and spring's first promise, bend 
the ever-blossom'd trees. 


Pale-sick moons no more are waning, stars be- 
spangle not the night, 

God is now that City's sunshine and the Lamb its 
living light ; 

Eve and morn divide no longer, noons dispense a 
deepening ray, 

For each Saint is now in glory, shining to the 
perfect day : 

Crown'd they shout their Jubilates, joyous now 
the fight is done, 

Safely, now the foe is prostrate, boast them how 
the field was won. 


Purified of inwrought leaven, warring sin they 

know no more, 
Spirit now is flesh, and spirit what was only flesh 

before ; 
Peace, in tensest peace, enjoying, stumbling ways 

no more to scan, 
Changed from every shift of changing, mount 

they where their life began ; 
Present, not through glasses darkly, see the Glory, 

face to face, 
Lift their pitchers to the fountain welling with 

eternal grace. 


Bathed anew in heavenly lavers, hence they keep 

their first estate, 
Vivid, jocund, brightly sitting o'er the water-floods 

of fate : 
Sickness comes not to the healthy, lovely youth 

fears no decay, 
Hence they grasp eternal essence, for to pass hath 

pass'd away ; 
Thus, decay itself declining, in celestial vigour 

Mortal with immortal blending, death they swallow 

up in life. 


Knowing Him who knoweth all things, what to 

them shall not be known ? 
Heart to heart unbars its secrets lock'd within the 

fleshly zone, 


One ithing choosing, one refusing, one way all 

their currents fall ; 
Divers though the crowns of glory, meted at the 

Judgment Throne, 
What she loves in other's brightness, charity hath 

made her own, 
So the gifts of one excelling are the common joy 

of all. 


Where the body, there the eagles thick their 
broad-wing'd pinions thrust, 

Serried throngs of Angels mingle with the Spirits 
of the Just ; 

Banquet on one Heavenly Manna, Citizens of 
either State, 

Ever fill'd, and ever longing, satisfied, insa- 
tiate ; 

Filling hath for them no fulness, hung'ring still 
they know no pain, 

Part their holy lips for feasting, feast and part 
them yet again. 


Heavenly strains melodious voices echo each to 

other's notes, 
With the pent-up roar of organs, swelling in a 

thousand throats ; 
Now they chant the Song of Moses, now the 

Lamb is all their praise 
" God, Thy works how great, how wondrous, 

King of Saints, how just Thy ways ! " 


Happy while they see the Glory, yet beneath the 

Throne sublime 
Watch the sun and planets whirling earthward, on 

the grooves of time. 


Only might in them that conquer, only blessing 
of the blest, 

Girt no more for battle lead me, Jesu, to thy 
City's rest ! 

Make me sharer of thy bounty with those 
Heavenly legions bright ; 

Lend me strength or e'er I perish in this never- 
ending fight ; 

Finish now my course with gladness, loose the 
helmet from my brow ; 

All things to Thyself subduing, Saviour, let me 
win Thee now ! 


[The following Hymns are from Lyra Messianic a, 
published by Longmans, Green & Co.] 


THE night is far spent, and the day is at hand, 
There are signs in the heaven, and signs on the 


In the wavering earth, and the drouth of the sea 
But He stands and He knocks, Sinner, nearer to 


His night-winds but whisper until the day break 
To the Bride, for in slumber her heart is awake : 
He must knock at the sleep where the revellers 

With the dint of the nails and the shock of the 


Look out at the casement : see how He appears ; 
Still weeping for thee all Gethsemane's tears ; 
Ere they plait Him earth's thorns, in its solitude 

With the drops of the night and the dews of the 


Will you wait? Will you slumber until He is 


Till the beam of the timber cry out to the stone ; 
Till He shout at thy sepulchre, tear it apart, 
And knock at thy dust, who would speak to thy 
heart ? 



WHERE watchers nightly rounding 

Pace Sion's rampart walls, 
Or e'er the trumpet sounding 

Awake the battle calls ; 
While hidden foes beleaguer 

Before the morning light, 
Hark, hark, the cry how eager ! 

Watchman, what of the night? 

The work is large, the keepers 

Are few and far between ; 
And drowned in sloth the sleepers 

Dream on though day is seen : 
The first faint streaks of dawning 

The watchers scarce descry ; 
The night comes with the morning, 

Dark in the eastern sky. 

To Ishmaelitish Dumah 

They call from Pharpar's rills ; 
A terror shakes from Cuma 

Rome's everlasting hills : 
He is not there : His shining 

Is as the lightning blast, 
The east and west entwining 

Yet in a moment past. 

Though nation lift with nation 
A thousand flags unfurled, 

Thy King with observation 
Comes not to judge the world : 


His dawning is within thee 
Ere yet the shadows part, 

Arising still to win thee. 
The day star of the heart. 


SWATHED and feebly wailing, 

Wherefore art Thou laid, 
All Thy glory veiling, 

In the manger's shade ? 
King, and yet no royal 

Purple decks Thy breast : 
Courtiers mute and loyal 

Bend not o'er Thy rest. 

Sinner, here I sought thee, 

Here I made My home, 
All My wealth I brought thee, 

Vile am I become ; 
All thy loss redressing 

On My birthday morn, 
Give My Godhead's Blessing 

In a stable born. 

Thousand, thousand praises, 

Jesu, for Thy love, 
While my spirit gazes 

With the hosts above ; 
Glory in the highest 

For Thy wondrous birth, 
Lowly where Thou liest, 

Peace and love on earth. 



ONLY stay of man's salvation, 
Tree of life and tree of good ; 

Altar of the one Oblation, 

Red with all its cleansing flood ; 

Ages' first and last lustration 

Of the spotless Firstling's Blood. 

Bethel's stair to Heaven ascending, 
Drawing all the nations nigh, 

Earth's four regions comprehending 
Ere they set it deep and high, 

Breadth and height to all extending 
High and broad against the sky. 

Not of earth nor man's revealing, 
Cross, thy lengthened shadows fell ; 

Thine the wood the waters healing 
Cast on Marah's bitter well ; 

Thine the staff the streams unsealing 
Pent within the rocky cell. 

Thou the life-mark from the dwelling 
Where the Paschal lintels bled, 

All the deathful sword repelling 
As the Angel onward fled ; 

Thine the only life-drops welling 
'Twixt the living and the dead. 



COME, Holy Ghost ; the Lamb has broke 

The hidden Scripture's seals ; 
Yet from the throne no thunders woke, 

No golden trumpet peals : 
Mysterious rest of light represt, 

As when the day was won, 
The sun stood still on Gibeon's hill, 

The moon in Ajalon. 

'Tis silence still in all the Heaven, 

Above, below, around : 
The Angels with the trumpets seven. 

Who stand prepared to sound ; 
The Saint before the golden shrine. 

The river by the tree ; 
And where the pictured harps recline 

Upon the glassy sea. 

Hold fast the rock, thou little Flock, 

So fainting and so few ; 
Lift ! lift your hands the Angel stands 

With incense lit for you : 
Those prayers shall be a cloudy sea, 

From myriad censers hurled ; 
Earth's utmost space your meeting-place, 

Your Upper-room the world. 



SUNSET and evening star, 

And one clear call for me ! 
And may there be no moaning of the bar. 

When I put out to sea. 

But such a tide as moving seems asleep, 

Too full for sound and foam, 
When that which drew from out the boundless 

Turns again home. 

Twilight and evening bell, 

And after that the dark ! 
And may there be no sadness of farewell 

When I embark ; 

For tho 5 from out our bourne of Time and Place 

The flood may bear me far, 
I hope to see my Pilot face to face 

When I have crost the bar. 


MAUD, xvn. 

Go not, happy day, 

From the shining fields, 
Go not, happy day, 

Till the maiden yields. 



SOLIS in occasu nitet Hesperus : omine certo 

semel vocatus audio ! 
claustra velim ne triste gemant vocalia ponti 

solvente me funem ratis, 

sed fremitum spumamque premens, similisque 

labatur aestus amplior, 
cum maris immensi quae pleno e gurgite fluxit 

vis refluet in sedem suam. 
contrahet umbra diem : resonabunt aera : tenebris 

tune vesperem nox occulet ! 
iamque, " Vale " dicto, reprimat querimonia vocem 

infausta, dum scando ratem ; 
trans finemque licet, loca qui terrestria claudit 

et tempora, auferar procul, 
adfore Te coram spero : mihi, Christe, solutae. 

Tu navis hinc clavum regas ! 

MAUD, xvn. 

O NITENTIA qui beas 
prata, siste fugam, dies 
laete, ne properaveris : 
siste, donee amabilis 

virgo cedat amori. 


Rosy is the West, 

Rosy is the South, 
Roses are her cheeks, 

And a rose her mouth. 
When the happy Yes 

Falters from her lips, 
Pass and blush the news 

Over glowing ships ; 
Over blowing seas, 

Over seas at rest, 
Pass the happy news, 

Blush it thro' the West ; 
Till the red man dance 

By his red cedar-tree, 
And the red man's babe 

Leap, beyond the sea. 
Blush from West to East, 

Blush from East to West, 
Till the West is East, 

Blush it thro' the West. 
Rosy is the West, 

Rosy is the South, 
Roses are her cheeks, 

And a rose her mouth. 


MAUD 49 

Occidens roseum rubet, 
concolorque Meridies ; 
et rosas superat genis 
ilia floridulis nitens 

et rubente labello. 
quae simul dederit manus 
voce vix trepida favens, 
perge velivolas super 
nuntiare rates procul 

sera luce corusca : 
hinc super mare concitum 
perge, vel placidi super 
marmoris requiem, ultimos 
usque in Occidui poli 

nuntiare rubores ; 
dum cedrum prope russeam 
rufus Hesperiae plagae, 
prole cum rutila, choris 
incola insolitis ovans 

ter solum pede pellat. 
hinc rubrae redeant faces, 
ora queis Oriens flagret, 
dum refulgeat Occidens ; 
urat alter ut alterum 

mutua vice flammae. 
par rosae rubet Occidens, 
splendidusque Meridies 
ilia floridulis gena 
praenitet rosea rosis 

et rubente labello. 




Sent to me for translation by E. Lyttelton. 

OH dear departed cherished days, 

Could Mem'ry's hand restore 
Your morning light, your evening rays 

From Time's grey urn once more, 
Then might this restless heart be still, 

These straining eyes might close, 
And Hope her fainting pinions fold 

While the fair phantoms rose. 

But, like a child in Ocean's arms, 

We strive against the stream, 
Each moment farther from the shore 

Where life's young fountains gleam : 
Each moment fainter wave the fields, 

And wider rolls the sea : 
The shadows fall : the sun descends : 

Day breaks and where are we ? 


Lines on the late W. Cory (Johnson), 
by H. Newbolt. 

WITH failing feet and shoulders bowed 
Beneath the weight of happier days, 

He lagged among the heedless crowd, 
Or crept along suburban ways : 



O si praeteritos possit carasque peractos 

inter delicias mens revocare dies : 
si iubar Eoi referat, si Vesperis aurum, 

quae cinis annorum nocte sepulta tegit ; 
hac ope sollicitos componi pectoris aestus 

et requie liceat lumina sicca premi : 
hac ope languentes ultro Spes colligat alas, 

eximias species dum rediisse videt. 

sed velut in gremium Neptuni traditus infans, 

nitimur adverse corripimurque salo, 
longius a noto sublati litore in horas, 

qua vitreo nascens fonte iuventa salit. 
vanescunt sensim Zephyris undantia prata, 

et spatium immensi panditur usque maris : 
umbra ruit pelago pronam Sol lampada 
mersit : 

quis scit an et nobis luceat orta dies ? 

Oct. 1892. 


PASSIBUS infirmis, flexa cervice, dierum 
laetius actorum triste ferebat onus, 

seu cessaret iners turba stipatus inani, 
sive suburbana reperet ille via : 


But still through all his heart was young 
His mood a joy that nought could mar 

A courage, a pride, a rapture sprung 

Of the strength and splendour of England's war. 

From ill-requited toil he turned 

To ride with Picton and with Pack : 
Among his grammars inly burned 

To storm the Afghan mountain track : 
When midnight chimed, before Quebec 

He crouched with Wolfe till the morning star : 
At noon he saw from Victory's deck 

The sweep and splendour of England's war. 

Beyond the book his teaching sped : 

He left on whom he taught the trace 
Of kinship with the deathless dead 

And faith in all the island race. 
He passed : his life a tangle seemed : 

His age from fame and pow'r was far ; 
But his heart was high to the end, and dreamed 

Of the sound and splendour of England's war. 

By H. Newbolt. 

OUR game was his but yester-year : 

We wished him back we could not know 

The self-same hour we missed him here 
He led the line that broke the foe. 


viva tamen vegeta servabat corda iuventa, 
nescia dum labis gaudia mente fovet, 

elatus virtute pia fastuque decoro 

queis valido praestans Anglia Marte nitet. 

ingratum quoties certus mutare laborem 

Belgica cum ducibus proelia obibat eques ! 
Musarum quoties cultu fervebat omisso 

armatus Scythicum vi superare iugum ! 
nocte vigil media Laurenti ad fluminis oram 

lucem exspectanti visus adesse Lupo ; 
sole idem medio e puppi spectare tonante 

quali verrat ovans Anglia Marte salum. 

transiluit dictata libris, docuitque magister 

discipulos norma liberiore regi, 
fidere cognato generi quos Insula nutrit, 

funere maiores qui periere viri. 
ille fuit : sociis fallentis semita vitae 

ancipites visa est implicuisse vias ; 
somnia sed penitus sibi mens sublimia finxit : 

quale ferat resonans Anglia Marte decus ! 



INTERERAT ludis anni puer ille prioris 
quo doluit solitum turn caruisse locum : 

at socium ignari qua nos quaesivimus hora, 
non alio fracta est vis inimica duce. 


Blood-red behind our guarded posts 
Sank, as of old, the dying day : 

The battle ceased the mingled hosts 
Weary and cheery went their way : 

11 To-morrow well may bring," we said, 
" As fair a fight, as clear a sun." 

Dear lad, before the word was sped, 
For evermore thy goal was won. 

By W. E. Henley. 

THE day's high work is over and done, 
And these no more will need the sun : 

Blow, you bugles of England, blow ! 
These are gone whither all must go, 
Mightily gone from the field they won ; 
So in the work-a-day wear of battle, 
Touched to glory with God's own red, 
Bear we His chosen to their bed ! 
Settle them lovingly where they fell, 
In that good lap they loved so well ; 
And so, their envoy to the dear Lord said, 
And the last desperate volleys loosed and sped 

Blow, you bugles of England, blow ! 
Over the camps of her beaten foe, 
Stern in the thought of the victor Mother, 
Sad, O sad, in her dear and beautiful dead ! 


sanguine! metas nostri certaminis arcem 
luminis occiduum tinxit, ut ante, iubar : 

proelia Concordes acies decisa relinquunt ; 
laeta redit quamvis languida turba domum. 

" eras " aliquis dixit " similem fors viderit aequo 
omine Mars pugnam, nee minus alba dies." 

dum loquitur, virtus cari spectata sodalis 
contigerat metam, quo semel ire datur. 

Nov. 1899. 


EGREGIUM claudit Vesper cum luce laborem, 
nee superest caesis Solem iam cura videndi : 

(acre cavo patrium tua vox sonet, Anglia, 

Martem !) 

cesserunt, calcantque viam quo cogimur omnes 
fortiter abrepti fausto certamine fortes : 
nos igitur, quos Martis adhuc labor improbus urget, 
occiduo tacti divinitus ora rubore, 
sanctos ad requiem sanctam gremiumque feramus 
dilectae Matris : sic componamus amanter 
quo cecidere solo, et missis suprema precati 
ignea supremo iaculemur vulnera nisu 

(acre cavo patrium tua vox sonet, Anglia, 

Martem !) 

castra super fusasque acies inimicaque terga, 
victricem torvo referentes pectore Matrem, 
dum subolis carae raptum maeremus honorem ! 


Labour, and love, and strife, and mirth, 
They gave their part in this kindly earth 

Blow, you bugles of England, blow ! 
That her Name like a sun among stars might glow 
Till the dusk of time, with honour and worth : 
That, stung by the lust and the pain of battle, 
The One Race ever might starkly spread, 
And the One Flag eagle it overhead ! 
In a rapture of wrath and faith and pride, 
Thus they felt it, and thus they died : 
So to the maker of homes, to the Giver of bread 
For whom they rushed their dearest drops to shed- 
Blow, you bugles of England, blow 
Though you break the heart of her beaten foe, 
Glory and praise to the everlasting Mother ! 
Glory and peace to her triumphing dead ! 


HERE lies David Garrick, describe me who can, 
An abridgment of all that was pleasant in man : 
As an actor, confest without rival to shine 
As a wit, if not first, in the very first line. 
Yet, with talents like these, and an excellent heart, 
The man had his failings, a dupe to his art. 
Like an ill-judging beauty, his colours he spread, 
And beplaster'd with rouge his own natural red. 
On the stage he was natural, simple, affecting ; 
'Twas only that, when he was ofF, he was acting. 


Inter amorem et opus, risusque et iurgia, agebant 
quisque suas partes, dulcis dum vita iuvabat 

(acre cavo patrium tua vox sonet, Anglia, 

Martem !) 

ut patriae illustri, velut inter sidera Phoebus, 
saeclorum ad tenebras splenderet nomine virtus ; 
ut, pugnae lymphata siti, lymphata dolore, 
Gens Una imperium valide proferret, et Unum 
more aquilae Signum sublimes panderet alas ! 
Mens fuit haec nostris, rapuit quos fastus et ira, 
afflavitque fides : petiere hoc omine mortem. 
Excipit hos pro qua raptim fudere cruorem, 
quae stabilit pietate domos panemque ministrat 

(acre cavo patrium tua vox sonet, Anglia, 

Martem !) 

Quid si fracta iacet virtus hostilis et exspes, 
sit decus altrici, sit laus per saecula Matri ! 
sit decus occisis, sit pax, qui morte triumphant ! 

Oct. 1900. 


Hie iacet Aesopus ponat qui ponere possit 
quicquid habent homines lepidi contraxerat in se : 
praenituisse aliis omnes cessere tragoedis 
intererat primis, si non prior ipse, facetis : 
sed tali ingenio praestantem et corde benigno 
ars sua delusit vitio graviore carentem. 
hinc, veluti Formosa excors matrona, solutis 
ampullis proprium studuit fucare colorem. 
in scena simplex, sincerus, corda movebat, 
nee nisi deposita persona prodiit actor : 


With no reason on earth to go out of his way, 
He turned and he varied full ten times a day ; 
Though secure of our hearts, yet confoundedly sick 
If they were not his own by finessing and trick : 
He cast off his friends like a huntsman his pack, 
For he knew when he pleased he could whistle 

them back. 

Of praise a mere glutton, he swallowed what came, 
And the puff of a dunce he mistook it for fame ; 
Till his relish grown callous, almost to disease, 
Who peppered the highest, was surest to please. 



Written by A. C. Benson for Eton Ascham Society. 

WE are fit 

For nothing : wheresoever we aspire, 
*' A pedagogue," they cry, " in buckram clad, 
He cannot talk nor argue : he would still 
Be lecturing : he grows so arrogant 
With petty triumphs over infant wits, 
He cannot even brook a different view ; 
He deems that contradiction is a crime 
Deserves the block ; he cannot deal with men ; 
He must explain, infected with the vice, 
The academic vice of giving all 
Where half were better " ; Oh, I seem to grow 
Impatient : 'tis a noble trade enough 
While still we are efficient ; laid aside 
It leaves the Dominie not half a man, 

"WE ARE FIT" 59 

immutare viam nulla ratione coactus 

ambages vicibus crebris flectebat in horas, 

naturaeque potens nostrae fastidia sensit 

si quem forte dolo illectum captare requiret : 

dimittebat, uti catulos venator, amicos 

in sua mox tenui revocandos iura susurro. 

quicquid adulantes iecere vorabat avarus, 

pro fama accipiens flatum baronis inepti, 

dum tandem callens gula tamquam languida morbo 

gratis absorpsit conditas acrius escas. 


AT brutum genus, et nullis sumus usibus apti ; 
sive quid audemus, " Proh flecti nescia corda, 
Orbilios (clamant), nee disceptare paratos 
nee sermone frui : mutis dictanda cathedris 
sola crepant, tantumque fovent sub pectore fastum 
maiores quia sint puerorum mentibus, ut non 
aequis accipiant animis diversa probantes, 
sed ferula ducant si quis dissentiat ultro 
caedendum : tractare viros male convenit illis, 
scilicet hoc vitium est, Academiae proprius mos, 
ut minimis instent pergantque evolvere totum, 
quamvis dimidium praestet." 

me talia taedet 

audire : officium dignum est quo fungimur, acrem 
dum navare operam sinit aetas atque animi vis ; 
sed rude donati, fuimus ; simulacra virorum 
qualia aves terrent, faeno et lanugine facta, 


A padded scarecrow waving fatuous arms ; 
And thus it is we linger, like the shell 
That plants a wrinkled tent with viscid foot 
On rocks that push above the shifting sand : 
But should the rash intruder speak a word 
Or wave a hand to strike him from his place, 
Instant he clings with some ethereal glue 
That frets and blunts the insulted pocket-knife. 


A LITTLE boy will grapple 

With an early summer apple, 
And prevaileth, and prevaileth for an hour. 

Then that early summer apple 

With the little boy will grapple, 
And it nips him, and it grips him for it's sour. 



Hie iacet ancilla 
quae omnia egit : 

nil tetigit ilia 
nisi quod fregit. 


bracchia iactamus ventis haeremus in isdem 
sic igitur studiis, qualis tentoria testae 
scrupea viscoso figit pede conchula nitens 
lubrica harenarum rupes qua dividit aestus, 
quam si forte manu vel voce audacius instans 
advena deturbare loco conatur, ab ipso 
colligit avelli metuens magis acre gluten, 
cultellique aciem admotam terit atque retundit. 



ANTE diem aestiva lapsum puer arbore malum 
rodet, ovans carpto dum brevis hora sinit : 

ipsius at pueri malum mox ilia carpet, 
inque vicem rodet tam nimis acre sapit. 



Hie ancilla iacet : fregit labor improbus illam : 
sed quicquid tetigit fregerat ilia prius. 


ONE, DEIGHTON, calling himself Doctor, a hanger- 
on of Durham City and University, undertakes 
to walk from John o' Groats to Land's End as 
an advertisement to Bovril. 


A. T/9 OVTOS evTiv, 09 /3dcriv 

VGO/ULO., 7rooftV;/9 KdiTrep coi/ yepaiTepos \ 

B. AeiTO)^ Oo' 6(TT/l/j O? AfOa(7/caXo? K\Vl 

$6\io$ aXd^cov (T7rp]ULO\6yo<;, (piXdpyvpo? 
6$ot7ropti<TCov yr)<s CITT' ecr^arcoy opcov 

'? flopeiov of/coy, <r9icov JAOVOV 
Ov TI /3pu>ju.a, fiovv ev \rjKv9w. 
A. ev \t]Kv6a) ftovv ; TOUT ap' eypa\^' 6 
yowvT \ivu> {3ovv fjieyav JULVMIJULGLTI 
a o?/x' a)? oXcoXa9, w Kaa-iyvrjTov Kapa 
TI /co))O9 e<TTai /3ovv eiri 

B. fJKiarT', 7rl yXuxjcTfl yap ov Sapov fj.evet, 
MIKPAI 1 S' CKeiOev e-jrl MAPEIAI 1 

A. K0\ijv ap ei^MAPEIAN evprjKev /3opa$ 

B. j3ou(ppi\\o(bayii> toucev a>9 /micrOov \aj3fl 

1 Cf. Barrie's Play, Little Mary." 


DISCUSSION in Durham University Senate whether 
metal or leather fire-buckets should be provided. 



TCLV\OV$ Ty BoiAij $9 ficoScK e$oj*e TrpiacrOai 
fir] IJLGVOS 'H0a/<rTOu Sw/mara 

T e/u.7r\eiovs v$aro$ Trpos Tracrav avd 
err' ovv ^aX/ce/ou? enr' apa Sep/uLctTivovs. 
Sep/marivovs TlpcoKTcop, 0pow/ucoTaTO? avfipwv, 
OVK av (pOeipo/mevov? Trocrdiv a6vpju.a vewv. 

OJULW? Kal Sep/jLaTivois cnroKeia-eTai 
ovcrov aTrocr/Searo-ai UpwKTOpa 


VULCAN-SLAYER Merry weather 
Buckets recommends of leather 

To protect from fire our Keep : 
Hence discussion merry, whether 
Price is not beyond our tether 

<l Leather's dear, but tin is cheap. " 
But our Senior Proctor prudent 
Knows the mood of Durham student, 

That he loves metallic din : 
Metal will from kicks impudent 
Be deformed by many a rude dent, 

So he votes against the tin. 



CANON FOWLER harangues the Senate of Durham 
on the impropriety of Doctors wearing as full 
dress in Convocation the gown of any other 
than a Durham degree, and recommends that in 
undress all Doctors should wear the Red Con- 
vocation Robe with Palatinate buttons. 

From an old Comedy 
K\VT\ o> (paeivrjv KOKKIVOOV e 


ev avXais rf iraXaiov 
TraXai jmaOrjTeva-avTe?, 019 
icceXXo? TLa\aTtvo/3a<pe$ c 
TrpCTrei juid\i(r0'' QTOLV Se M ireTrXwv Set] 


ej/TO? ju.\av(>ov epvOpov el/uLardov (popeiv 

ioecriv ojuL(pa\oi$ y 

/ui6\avd$ T etyonrTeiv ov Oejuu?' TOVTOV vo/J-ov 
o Upvravis auro? Trapa/Be/StjKW 
T TTO)? \6\rj6eV e'lprjTai, 

TrpocrtjKev, dfyw $' VJJLO.S ae\ 

6/moloi9 tyv, ^ooaf? r' eO 


FROM THE 'Ao-rn? KoXXiyyiecra-w. 
(On Shield of Jesse Collings Fragment.) 

u? em FX ...... 

ev ' eriOei FW/XOJ/, <f)o/3epov SevSpetrcri yepovra 
e-^OoSoTTOv Aa/3/ft>, yuecrcn;? AoOiavlSos aX/oyy, 

VTTTIOV V TTOLtJ' 6 ' 7r} TplCl KLTO TTe\e6pa' 

/5ou9 ^e TrapKTrafjLevjj TrX^at Kvproiariv avaKra 


tyaa^ai re KO/mtjv yevvc&v re \ivoppa<pe$ epKO$, 

' oy acrO/xatVcoy, wcXexvs Se oi eK(pvye 

(On the occasion of the G.O.M. being knocked 
down by a cow.) 

REPLY to the Congratulations of my former Class 
at Cheltenham on my Appointment to the Pro- 
fessorship of Greek at Durham University. 

c5 Traces 1 , aarjuLeve<TTaO' 



e/uiol imevei SVCTVITTTOS e/c (fipevwv 
el yap TIV ot<$ TU> <$iSa<TKa\(*) \apiv 
aya9o$ /maOrjTris, /u.eilov av TOVTW 

July 1889. 


ON THE APPOINTMENT of the Dean of S. Asaph 
to succeed me as Principal of Cheltenham 

- A<rad)J79 o Ae/cayo?' OjOa /mrj ")^L^ , w t \. 
a) BouX>}, Otfarei Trpdy/uLaTa irdvT 'A 2 A $ H. 

Xmas 1888. 

ON THE APPOINTMENT of the Rev. W. Hobhouse 
of Christ Church, Oxon, as Headmaster of 
Durham Grammar School. 

T/9 BOO? OVK rjKOVUe IZOjOOy, KCtl 7TU)l>V/U.Ol> CKTTV \ 

(rviu,<ppei ov% LKCIVWS Touvoju-a' <ppovc)o$ '0 BOYS. 


Suffering from the Effects of Vaccination. 

/3ovv Se^aro \a /3e/3aviav 
ea.7rivrj<s OVTOS acbwvos avrfp. 
el Se /3e/3rjKv /3ov$ CTTI Trr't^ei', /mcucpov 


Written for Eton Fourth Form Trials. 

LAUDABUNT alii pontes ubi molibus altis 

et trabe marmorea despiciuntur aquae : 
tu mihi, Pons Ovium, iam turn puerilibus annis 

carus eras omni tempore carus eris. 
sis licet exiguus, proprio non vate carebis, 

dilecti latices nee sine laude fluent, 
hie tenuis tenui delabitur unda susurro, 

nee properat trepido linquere prata pede. 
tristior hue quoties Asinorum a Ponte revertor, 

quam iuvat immunes ludere propter aquas ! 
reddita seu speculo ramorum tegmina miror, 

collaque cygnorum candidiora nive, 
seu requiem modo carpentes modo gramina, solis 

qua radios arcet densior ulmus, oves. 
te tamen interdum pluviis maioribus auctus 

vi nimia Tamesis diluvieque premit : 
quamquam torqueris, superari gurgite nescis, 

ne solitum pueris impediatur iter. 
sic ventura tuis iungas per saecula ripas, 

et memori servet nomen Etona fide ! 



(Advertisement for the Carbolic Smoke Ball.) 

LENTA si tibi forte pituita 

nares clauserit et premat cerebrum, 


languenti dabit ocius levamen 
spargens carbolicos globus vapores 
quos raptim simul hauseris, K.O.T aV 

et clare resonantis aura nasi 
crebram sternuet approbationem. 

IN REPLY to an Invitation to a Dinner in Celebration 
of the 2ooth Meeting of the Eton Ascham 
Society, of which I was formerly Secretary. 

SALVERE Aschamios iubet sodales 
queis lautae licet accubare mensae, 
invitus tamen hie procul sub Arcto : 
heu ! scriba emeritus tenetur absens, 
nee cena potiore nee puella, 
sed Dunelmia quas colit cathedris. 
O fata improba ! ter quater beati 
conventus celebrasse queis ducentos 
contingit, sitientibusque labris 
Ficti ducere poculum Doloris ! 
sic vobis faveat Magister ille 
Rogerus, faveantque multitude 
omnis Psychologum recens vetusque, 
et Collegia Paedagogicorum 
Obeius, 1 Vicia, 2 atque Pestalozzi ! 

June 1901 
!O. B. 2 Sir Joshua Fitch. 



NOCTE sonans media quatiet vox aerea turrim, 

nee mora, lanus adest : 
praeteriti claudit sollenni clave sepulcrum, 

qua reseratur ope 
ianua mors vitae, nascentemque evocat annum. 

nee secus alterius, 
Christe, iubes aevi renovari in saecula quicquid 

in cineres abiit. 


TO A. D. C. 

On receiving Tickets for < Macbeth " at the Lyceum, 

ARTURE, salve ! te, bone, tesseras 
par filiarum dante, tragoediam 
hastile vibrantis poetae 
et scelus, et magicas sororum 
spectabit artes : fallor an improbi 
audire vocem iam videor ducis 
quern fingit Henricus, 1 strepenti 
dum lacerat rabiem loquela, 
sicaeque inanem captat imaginem ? 
frustra lavantis iam stupeo manus 
uxoris incassum rubentes 
hospitis innocui cruore. 

1 Henry Irving. 

70 A. D. C. 

hoc grande tecum vatis opus lego, 
Gervine, claudum dum foveo pedem : 
quis illigatum me scelesta 
Pegasus expediet podagra ? 



Singing at the Jubilee Service outside St. Paul's. 

POSCIMUR. Priscum revocat Tenorem 
guttur Arturi, mediaeque Terrae 
deserit gyrum et strepitum forensem 

scriba Coronae. 1 
inter arguta prece iubilantes 
flamines Pauli canit ante templum, 
veste candescens, Academicoque 

colla cucullo 

cinctus exsultat. Chorus ille Magni 
suscitat Manes Duels, inclitique 
commovet sancta cineres Horati 

sede repostos. 

audit Arturum populus triumphans : 
audit et Regina, pio Britannos 
iure quae regni moderata, bis sex 

lustra peregit. 

concinant ergo tuba tympanumque ! 
concinant turbae fremitus ovantis ! 
fratribus plaudant alio calentes 

acre fratres ! 


1 Clerk to the Crown on Midland Circuit. 

A. D. C. 71 

Written to order, and in adulation of A. D. C. 

Carbonis ille Dux vocatus et Lirae 
Arturus (ipsum si rogamus) Arturo 
cognominem se Ferreo Duci iactat, 
Marti togatus, cantor Imperatori ! 
neque ullius canentis imparem voci 
suam fuisse, concinente quo primae 
Dominae, 1 Philomela Suedica, et Novellorum 
spes Clara, primo ceu Tenore gauderent. 
non blandius lenire calluit cantu 
Tusci Case/la 2 cor da vat is, amplecti 
conantis umbram scilicet cutem morti 
conceperat nervosque, voce non captus. 
Arture, sic vox ista nesciat solvi 
Sebastiani dedita orgiis Bachi ! 


Vice Provost of King's, in answer to Invitation to 
Founder's Day. 

O QUI Praepositi vicem per aulas 
regales geris, hospitumque turbae 
sollennes epulas struis Decembres, 
heu ! quantum piget hie procul sub Arcto 
dicta quod teneor die, priore 

1 Sang duets with Jenny Lind and Clara Novello. 

2 See Dante, Purg. Canto 2. 


non cena, potiore nee puella, 
verum Examine Baccalaureorum, 
tristi scilicet atque inhospitali ! 
O fata improba ! ter quater beati 
queis lautae licet accubare mensae 
Augusti, sitientibusque labris 
Ficti ducere poculum Doloris. 
" Da nobis memorem pii lagenam 
Fundatoris, et alteram domorum 
quos lentus Tamesis lavatque Camus ! " 
haec gaudent resonare feriantes 
regales socii : sed hie retentus 
Dunelmi iuvenes arare cogor. 



Propria quae maribus mulier sibi munera poscit- 
ut simili incedat, iure B.A.-ta, gradu ! 


To the Rev. H. Montagu Butler, Master of Trinity 

College, Cambridge. 

QUA iacet Agnetae suboles et Montis Acuti, 
Musarum in cunas turba benigna coit. 

ter felix opera non praeceptoris egebit, 
quern tali ingenio ditat uterque parens : 

lac puer esuriens poscet clamore Latino, 
seu dolet, infanti vagiet ore " 



INSIMULAT Stephanus medicos sermone maligno 

viscera vivorum qui secuere can urn. 
ergo in ius rapitur, testes adhibetque puellas 

quid non audebit docta puella loqui ! 
Victor ovat medicus : Stephanus, plaudente corona, 

bis mille Edwardos solvere iussus abit. 


Celsius esuriens Academias vorat omnes : 

scilicet omnigenos esurit ille Gradus. 1 
barbatus leves inter numeratur ephebos, 

pondere dum cathedras iam graviore premit. 
Londini saturum mensis Oxonia pavit 

ditibus hinc Vedrae flumen alendus adit ; 
uberaque admovit postquam Dunelmia nutrix, 

exsilit e gremio Doctor, Eblana, tuo ! 
sacra fames Graduum, quid non mortalia cogis 

pectora ! an et cunctas induct ille togas ? 
Celsi, collectos umeris suspende cucullos 

praestringes oculos decolor Iris erit ! 


1 Schol. in loc. : 

iv B. A. + iii M. A. + iii B.D. + D 2 = TR. 



Nox suprema poscit chorum 
finem qui canat laborum ; 
turbam hospitum sedentem, 
nostrum carmen audientem, 
dum sono respondent muri, 
salutamus abituri. 


O sodales gaudeamus ! 
voce hilari fremamus ! 
dum canentes iteramus. 
eras redibimus domum ! 

nocte festa quis dolebit, 
qui parentes mox videbit ; 
Lexicon Grammaticamque 
qui relinquit Algebramque, 
nee magistro dabit poenas 
lineasque bis centenas ? 

O sodales, etc. 

hac in aula cum silebit, 
mus araneas docebit : 
dormient Homerus, Maro, 
et Euclides, noti raro ; 
neque Chemicis peritis 
nauseam dabit mephitis. 

O sodales, etc. 


egimus citatum 
pede corium inflatum ; 
paullulum cessabunt crura 
vulnera passorum dura, 
et, curante matre, abrasus 
cutem reparabit nasus. 

O sodales, etc. 

libri, socii, valete ! 
teque, Praeses o facete, 
haec iubet valere pubes. 
ipse quos valere iubes. 
intermissos post labores 
redeamus graviores ! 
O sodales, etc. 


THERE was an old woman of Brixham 

Who said " There be sloes, and I'll pick some ; 

For they make a good syrup, 

If with sugar you stir up 
And in brandy sufficiently mix 'em." 

THERE was an old woman of Churston 

Who thought her Third husband the worst 'un ; 

For he justly was reckoned 

Far worse than the Second, 
And the Second was worse than the First 'un. 




STUDIES, or Faculties which meet to-day ? 

This weight of Dons our mind confuses : 
They too are " floored " by us. We humbly pray, 

Preserve us from dry rot, ye Muses ! 

We're hard to sit upon ; yet after all 
Professors' aged bones may thank us ; 

For though we're new, we cannot but recall 
The good old Consulship of Plancus \ 


IN EPULUM a remigibus lectis utriusque academiae 
decimo confecto lustro celebratum a.d. vii Id. 

Die mihi, Musa, dapes festas quas struxit in aula 
annus Eleusina iam quinquagesimus ex quo 
decertare Academiam conspexit utramque 
remigibus lectis Tamesis. Coiere frequentes 
quos et Camus iners et quos velocior Isis 
sustulerat gremio heroas, iuveniliter olim 
ut certare pares, ita nunc cenare parati. 
O qui complexus et gaudia quanta fuere ! 
adsunt causidici, praetores, clericus ordo, 
curia quos audit, quos ditat lanus, et acrem 
qui Mavortis agunt rem, ludorumque magistri : 

1 Boards of Studies and Faculties. 


miscentur cani flavis, calvisque comati, 
longaevis iuvenes, barbati imberbibus, omnes 
viribus integris vegeti memoresque iuventae. 
grandior hie x alios primi certaminis heros 
arduus exsuperat recta cervice humerisque, 
pondere quo nemo invasit graviore phaselon, 
iam senior, sed cruda viro et rubicunda senectus. 
convenere omnes : discumbitur ordine iusso, 
aequales nempe ut coeant aequalibus et se 
acta iuvent variis memorantes tempora ludis : 
praesidet his et quondam et nunc fortissimus ICtus 2 
murice bis tinctus, salicis palmaeque abiegnae 
rex pariter, toties certaminis arbiter aequus. 
arbiter hunc alius 3 resonabilis ore rotundo 
pone premit, qui plaudentes nimis atque loquentes 
intempestive iubet auscultare, regitque 
undantis dextrae moderamine propinantes. 
ius testudineum sorptum est, et rhombus, et albi 
pisciculi incerti generis poppysmate crebro 
exsilit explosus cortex spumante lagena - 
solvuntur linguae memorantur pristina, qua vi 
hie vir principium, qua cancros ceperit ille, 
quaque gubernator cursum, et qua torserit undas 
nauta manu : quoties fauste pecus egerit Aegonf 
et Morison quoties : quam multa comederit alter 
terga bourn, quot lactucas consumpserit alter. 

talia iactantur, dum fundunt acre canoro 
cornicines musaea mele, lautasque ministri 

1 Toogood, a great heavyweight. 

2 J. Chitty, double blue, O.U.B.C., O.U.C.C., judge of the 
boatrace ; chairman of the Jubilee Banquet. 

3 Marker, toastmaster. 4 Tom Egan. 


permutant lances, et amor pacatur edendi. 
postquam exemta fames glacieque astricta quiescit 
ventris inops rabies, assurgit praeses amatae 
Reginae in laudem, mox Principis atque nepotum : 
hoc propinarchi gravius devolvitur ore 
votum exoptamus matri natoque salutem 
et natis natorum et qui nascentur ab illis ; 
et vocem et proprios numeros chorus aereus addit. 
nee mora non alio poscente adhibemus honorem 
quos Fora quos Cathedrae quoscumque Ecclesia 


remigio insignes : hac scilicet arte doceri 
quid ius, quid valeat sancti reverentia et aequi. 
ipse viros numerat laudatque, et fortia narrat 
dum facta, in medium mirantibus omnibus effert 
qua tunica indutus sudavit Episcopus 1 olim. 
respondet primus triplici qui 2 robore et acre 
pectus habet munitum, ut equi labentis in ipsum 
pondere contritus tamen assurrexerit atque his 
intersit dapibus, durus durique laboris 
Clericus officio per longos deditus annos. 
proximus huic ludex, 3 quo nee servantior aequi 
nee magis humanus quo quivis provocet, alter : 
blanda viro species mens recta in corpore recto 
et pariter studio remisque exercita virtus, 
hunc sequitur crebra natus 4 de gente Fabrorum 
Consultus iuris, quern mersum flumine quondam 
ignarum nandi eripuit sors invida, fatum 

1 Wordsworth, Bishop of St. Andrews. 

2 Rogers, Queen's chaplain. 

3 Lord Justice Brett. 4 A. L. Smith, Q.C. 


quis scit an ut sublime magis servatus obiret ? 
poscitur et terra pridem spectata marique, 
et sua quae tantum meditatur proelia virtus : 
terni respondent Etonae matris alumni, 
Reginaldus l atrox quern sensit Taurica tellus 
robore Taurino invictum, cui Sarmata cessit : 
excipit hunc, quamvis rebus non ipse 2 marinis 
deditus, at saltern nauarchis acribus acer 
cognatus, crebra metuit quern c/asse iuventus 
divisa, Henrici fasces et sceptra gerentem : 
et tu, 3 militiam senserunt quo duce primam 
^Ajoe?, "A/>e?, pueri innocuam, patriamque tueri 
assuescunt, positis Tamesino in margine castris. 

turn demum auctores primi certaminis ipsos 
excitat et salvere iubet Denmanius : 4 omnes 
infremuere viri, et numerosi adduntur honores. 
tres 5 aderant venerandi, et pro se quisque 


proque suis, quos distinuere negotia longe, 
aut quibus Elysium remus iam verberat amnem : 
et tempus laudant (quam dignum laude !) peractum, 
cum magis extentis spatiis certare solerent 
et breviore ictu graviorem urgere phaselon, 
necdum libratis tereti fulcimine maior 
vis accessisset remis et forma rotunda, 
nee natibus motum labentia 6 transtra dedissent. 

1 Lt.-Col. Buller. 

2 Dr. Hornby, Headmaster of Eton. 3 Major Warre. 

4 G. Denman, Senior Classic, and from his powerful rowing 
known as * the Steam Engine of the Cam.' 

5 Rev. T. Staniforth. The Dean of Ely. Rev. J. J. Toogood. 

6 Sliding seats. 


haec inter senibus sermo producitur hora 
sera iubet festis convivas cedere mensis, 
nee tamen immemores quam sint bene munere 


auctores epuli : datur his laus iusta, tuamque, 
Praeses, opem agnoscunt laetis clamoribus omnes : 
turn dormitum abeunt. O terque quaterque 

bead : 

gaudia quis novit sociis maiora receptis ? 
aemula sic virtus uno per saecula utramque 
corde Academiam et fraterno foedere iungat ! 


SED non in tuto requiescunt ossa sepulcro 

Cuthberti, quarnvis tangere triste nefas. 
namque Culina 1 iubet cum vectibus ire ministros 

detrahere et saxum quod super ossa iacet. 
adsunt intenti studiis Euchlorus 2 et Auceps 3 

Archaeologicis, 4 Fuscus 5 et ipse Pater, 
hi veteris thecae sub humo fragmenta requirunt, 

et fit cribrato pulvere foeda manus. 
mox lapidem tollunt fodientes altius in quo 

Ricardi 6 inscriptum nomen erat Monachi : 
tune putri (horresco referens ! ) dat lampas in area 

ipsius Sancti cernere relliquias ! 

1 Dean Kitchin. 2 Canon Greenwell. 

3 Canon Fowler. 4 Metr. grat. 5 Father Brown. 

6 " Ricardus heswell monachus," inscribed on the tombstone. 


O insigne nefas ! etiam haec penetralia Mortis 

ausi sacrilega sunt violare manu ! 
quicquid erat Cuthberti in lucem tollitur, atque 

Osvaldi fissum tollitur ense caput. 
reddite, sacrilegi, Sancti venerabilis ossa, 

reddite non rursus sic violanda solo ! 

MY UMBRELLA disappeared from the Hall in the 
Athenaeum having been taken in mistake by 
the late Dean of Durham (Dr. Lake). 

IN Athenaeum's Hall a sleek divine 

Left his umbrella, walking off with mine : 

So some Q.C. takes silk, and casts away 

The frayed alpaca that has seen its day. 

" Excuse me, friend, " said he, " a mere mistake. " 

" A mere> indeed ! you surely mean a LAKE \ " 

THE LATE DEAN OF DURHAM (Dr. Lake), in a letter 
to the Times, said of the late C. S. Calverley that 
" he was nursed at Oxford and went to Cam- 
bridge rather reluctantly, and his early wit may 
have suffered for the time by his transference 
from the genial warmth of Oxford to the colder 
wisdom of her scientific sister. " 

POOR Blayds ! by Oxford wfo/-nursed till you cut, 
Her whetstone, blunt itself, too sharp did make you : 


You were indeed a " lamina candens " but 
Tempered (we learn) by contact "gelido LACU." 

[See Ovid, Met. ix. 170.] 


THE night grows on the riotous canteen 

Has sent its boozy stragglers one by one 

To end their fragments of spasmodic song 

And incoherent melody's refrain 

Within the shadow of their darkened cones, 

Till sleep the diaphragm's convulsion calm. 

The picket's work is done on yonder tent, 

Where yet the privilege of rank allows 

Longer consumption of the serv'd-out dip, 

Phantasmagoric shadows shape themselves, 

Eccentric but familiar. See that form 

Portentous : mark the struggling arms outstretched 

And arched back, as, with a last resolve. 

And fitful heaving of the cabined limbs, 

Day's manifold robes dragged off, the inmate dons 

The simple comprehensive garb of night, 

And lost in Octopus-contortions he 

Collapses into darkness. 

In that view 

The cloak-enveloped "captain of the day, " 
Now rather restless prowler of the night, 
Stands rapt ; while from his laughter-parted lips 
Sensuously oozes the Nicotic fume. 


But hark ! what sound was that ? meseemed the 


Trembled, or through the dank mysterious air 
Thrilled the low soughing of a coming storm : 
Now louder and more loud, now right, now left, 
As with some organ's bourdon throbs the air ; 
And in responsive echoes undulant, 
Reverberating diapasons roll. 
It is the nasal organ's pedal bass 
It is the Quarter-master's opening snore ! 



(A Mascot-charm used at Examinations.) 

O SWEET companion, soother of my cares, 
How undeserved the scorn thy species bears ! 
Thy nature is by all misunderstood, 
Who, thinking only of their knife and fork, 
Regard thee greedily as future pork, 
And turn thy shapely form to vulgar food. 
Facing th' impending terrors of Exam., 
How could I bear to think of thee as Ham, 
Or, when my coveted Degree I've taken, 
To see thee in a dish of Eggs and Bacon ! 
Rash I may be to think that I shall pass, 
Or gain with luck a first or second class ; 
Yet of my joy 'twould be a cruel smasher, 
If Fate should ever make of thee a Rasher. 

K F2 


Perish the thought ! thou art my constant guide ; 

And when there's anything I can't make out, 

On thy fond aid 1 always have relied 

To chase away the ugly mists of doubt, 

Thy reassuring smile alloys all fear, 

And leaves my obfuscated brain quite clear : 

If for a word or phrase I vainly hunt, 

'Tis prompted by thy sweet suggestive grunt. 

When I am through, we'll dance a merry jig, 
O partner mine, O sympathetic PIG ! 



OH, snatched away in beauty's bloom, 
On thee shall press no pond'rous tomb, 
No marble slab shall hold thee tight, 
But waistcoats silk or shirt fronts white, 
Which crackle as thy crackling speeds 
Adown the depths of him who feeds. 

Thy mother's milk hath made thee sweet 
And for Dons' appetites a treat. 
Such honour she can scarce regret, 
Or at thy swift interment fret. 
Rest where thou liest, give no pain, 
And struggle not to rise again. 



OUR J. T. F. 1 pronounces it Deborah, 
For those who call her Deborah a floorer ; 
And, to regard the Hebrew points as he doth, 
Should not her husband's name be called Lapidoth ? 


\vprj fiirjv T 

avwye Trai/ra? 
> 5? v ) i \ 
, ouo er aurof? 

TO. yap ye\ota Aorriyy 2 
/maOovcr' dVa^, TO AotTroy 

June 1892. 


No suit of gleaming armour, 

For I've no thought of battles ; 

But a capacious goblet, 

As deep as art can mould it ; 

And chase upon its surface 

No starry constellation, 

No Wain or sad Orion ; 

1 Lecturer in Hebrew. 2 Lottie Collins. 


Nought care I for the Pleiads 
Or glittering Bootes, 
But chase thereon rich vineyards 
Heavy with ripened clusters 
And Maenads at the vintage. 
Beside them set a winepress 
With men the ripe fruit treading, 
And Satyrs gaily laughing, 
And Loves with shining pinions, 
With Venus smiling o'er them : 
So Bacchus shall be tended 
By Love and Aphrodite. 

MY PARROT writes to Sir F. J. Bridge on receiving 
from him a certificate of musical ability. 

ON expectation's tip-claw long I've stood. 
And now am certified as passing good : 
Wood-wind and vocal tone I can surpass, 
And round my cage are bars of ringing brass : 
No melody beyond my compass lies 
My notes through octaves five or six can rise- 
Divine Cecilia would herself rejoice 
If she could hear my cultivated voice ; 
And mortal critics swear they've never heard 
A more enchanting Polly-phonic bird ! 


Accept enclosed this off' ring fair, 
A lock of my admired back hair. 

P. PARROT, 1905. 



THE REV. R. H. WHITE, of Braintree, makes a high 
art of cooking, and educates young women in the 
aesthetics of the kitchen. 

BESPEAK, oh epicure, thy daintiest fare- 
Ragouts, entrees, creams, pastry, or the rare 
Aspic-embedded prawn : whatever thy wish, 
In joyful hope await th' artistic dish. 
No sensual appetite I serve ; my plan's 
To shew mankind sermons in pots and pans. 
Respect the cassock and the apron too : 
Enjoy, admire, digest : the art that's true 
Ennobles e'en the ordinary stew. 




Written for the Programme of a Bazaar in aid of 
the Friendless Girls' Home. 

FRAMWELLGATE this humble lay 
Recommends to you to-day : 
Interest in our appeal 
Every kindly heart should feel. 
Novel knacks our mart supplies, 
Do not scorn the merchandise. 
Look around ! see everywhere 
Entertainment cheap and rare : 
See what maidens fair attend 
Smiling on you while you spend ! 

Gaily therefore at each stall 

I ndiscriminately call 

Rare the bargains you will make, 

Lighter hearts, too, home you'll take, 

Spending all for friendship's sake. 

Busy hands and active brains, 
All intent on useful gains, 
Zealously have here combined. 
Aid us then : your hearts are kind : 
And, encouraged by these verses, 
Readers, empty all your purses! 





THIS was weary work not long ago ; 

Work that paled the wasted cheek, 
Work that bowed the sick'ning head with woe, 

Weary work from week to week : 
While beneath the dimly dawning day 

Waned the lamp's expiring glow, 
Scanty bread to earn with scanty pay 

Fingers passed it to and fro. 

i 2 > 3- 

She sang I stood entranced, and far away 

Wandered in thought upon a lonely sea, 
Where from recesses of a distant bay 

Sounded a weird enchanting melody. 
I yielded : now the victim of her vice 

I mourn with empty purse my fortunes lost ; 
Oh, bliss of wedded life ! too dear a price 

Thy charms and witching melodies have cost. 

4. If the Gods of Olympus had lived in these days, 

They'd have taken a lesson from us ; 
And whenever Apollo made much of a blaze, 
Have taken their nectar-draughts thus. 

5. Sing, brother minstrels ; hail the happy morn ! 
To Christian ears be the glad tidings borne ! 
And as we crunch the snow, and march along 
Be this the burden of our Christmas song. 


6. Above the glens 

On mighty pens 
Ah ! whither do I soar ? 
The forest sinks 
The mountain shrinks 
Hushed is the torrent's roar : 
The clouds descend and hide 
The blue Aegean tide : 
The vaulted aether bows to meet me. 
Immortal Spirits stoop to greet me ! 


Two ornaments of fashionable belles 

Whom, weaned from nature, tyrant art enthrals, 
One towering high extravagantly swells, 

The other wantonly depending falls : 
We scatter fragrance to the winds that woo, 

And in the eyes of eager followers gleam ; 
We seem so fair and innocent and true, 

But, oh, ! we are not always what we seem. 

1. Ere the dawn I'm out of bed, 
And my comb is at my head : 
Ye who wish your hearts to cheer 
With the sight of dew-drop pearly, 
Trouble not your mothers dear, 
Trust to me to call you early. 

2. The tidings of his evil deeds received 
Unceasingly his aged father grieved : 


He lost his sacred charge, and fought in vain, 
In rout disastrous with his brother slain. 

3. I'm a dangerous thing (says a poet) to hold 

If you carelessly meddle with me when I'm cold ; 
But when heated I lend indispensable aid 
Where attention to personal neatness is paid. 

4. My name is suggestive of Matador's risk, 

But past it 'twixt London and Didcot you whisk. 

5. A frugal shepherd's speechifying son 
Gives you this hint ere yet his tale's begun. 

6. You might fairly suppose no one ever had found 
Such a treacherous snarling wild beast in a 

pound ; 

Yet a Bishop, and others well versed in such lore, 
Say in each there are always a dozen or more. 

7. Have you advanced thus far ? one word remains 
Ere yet the author mourns his wasted pains : 
Forbear to aim your last unerring shot 

It will be wiser far to guess it not. 


Both on the turf : this slow, but that more fast, 
Yet this for hours, while that for days may last : 
This may cement the union of the sexes ; 
That, like a maze, the weaker one perplexes : 
Here, rovers after heedless maidens stray ; 
There, legs are watching for their soaring prey : 


The one by fashionable Lords is borne ; 

The other, though no Bishop, wears the lawn. 

i, 2. Snarl and snap and yelp and whine, 
Human dog and man canine : 
Thus of old you shewed your spite 
When the King stood in your light. 
This within your breast was latent, 
Made you poisonous and blatant, 
Made you, reft of social grace. 
Hateful to the human race. 

3. The people were divided in their choice : 
Half for his rival raised an adverse voice ; 
Yet he succeeded to the throne of one 
Whose brief reign ended when a week was done. 

4. The name is French : from France the settlers 


A street in London also bears the name : 
A mighty river here its stream divides 
And sweeps an island with alternate tides, 
Whose shores oft tremble with the fierce impact 
Of crystal blocks from ice-bound basins cracked. 

5. My waters all murky with iron and coal 
To be cleansed in a mightier channel I roll : 
They were cleaner of old when the woodlands 


With the baying of deep-mouthed Cavall did 

6. I leave my card, I doff my hat, 
To Lady This, for Mrs. That : 


I dance in simulated glee 

Where scarce there's room for fairies rout 

In magic ring to go about : 

I drink obsequious Bohea : 

And why ? 'tis this the season rules, 

One law for wise men and for fools : 

The same bids hair be frizzed or curled, 

And holds the balance of the world. 

Would you see me in my pride, 
Seek the glassy river's side 

Where the circling eddies play ; 
Come not (I'm so very shy !) 
Nearer. You must send a fly, 

Would you fetch me hence away. 


Oh desperate crime, that could these names unite 
In startled Britons' placard-reading sight ! 
Fruitless be every plot, as this has been, 
To wreck the peace of England's widowed 
Queen ! 

1. In depth and hue, although it's called a sea, 
This is more like a saucerful of tea. 

2. Brooding o'er her untimely loss, with awe 
The poet heard a tapping at his door. 

3. Too near approach to such plebeian clothes 
Offends a nice aristocratic nose. 


4. u 'Tis time th' horizon glows ! " we hear the 

And, spite of notice, take our blankets out. 

5. Some nightly interviews, but not for love, 
She grants the peaceful King in sacred grove. 

6. England and Hanover a triumph claim : 
Handel and History record its fame. 




ONE evening, as with heat opprest, 

Lucinda sat her down to rest 

Upon a soft and grassy mound, 

And all so neatly spread around 

Her gauzy robe with fold on fold 

That nought might harm it ; then, behold, 

My FIRST, which in its nest had slept. 

Upon my SECOND softly crept. 

The maiden shrieked when she espied, 

And strove to crush it ; but I cried 

11 Stay, ruthless maid ! yon harmless beast, 

Though in our eyes well nigh the least 

On Nature's scale it seem to be, 

Yet strikes one note, however small, 

Of those rich chords which perfect all 

Creation's matchless harmony, 

And as in one full WHOLE declare 

The Maker's boundless love and care !" 


Lord Goose surveys from hustings high 
The clam' ring crowd, perplext ; 


Ill-omened name ! " my FIRST ! " they cry 
Their conduct is my NEXT. 

And still my SECONDS lend their aid 

To th' opposition Poll : 
His golden eggs in vain were laid 

To help him to my WHOLE. 


My FIRST is my SECOND : we merrily speed 
By its help down the hill without danger : 

My SECOND ! my SECOND ! each high-mettled steed 
Seems proud to be quit of his manger. 

Through village we rattle, through valley we roll, 

Ev'ry field our attention engages : 
Bright red on the panels is painted my WHOLE, 

We fly through a dozen of stages. 

So we said in old days ; but those days are no more, 

Superseded are horses and stable ; 
For a fiery thing, with a scream and a roar, 

Whirls us on, like my WHOLE in the fable. 





















G anymed E 


C hanticlee R 

H ophn I 

I ro N 

G orin G 

N orva L 

O unc E 

N o T 



C yni C 

R ancou R 

O mr I 

Q uebe C 

U s K 

E tiquett E 

T rou T 


A zof F 
L enor E 
F ustia N 
R ig I 
E geri A 
D ettinge N 






By the Rev. Herbert Kynaston, D.D. 

from Callinus to Callimachus. Selected and Edited by the 
Rev. HERBERT KYNASTON, D.D. Pott 8vo. is. 6d. 

D.D. Ex. fcap. 8vo. 55. Key. Ex. fcap. 8vo. 45. 6d. 

A HISTORY OF ETON COLLEGE (1440-1910). By Sir 
H. C. MAXWELL LYTE, K.C.B. Fourth edition, revised 
and enlarged. With illustrations, including 7 new Photo- 
gravure Plates by FREDERICK L. GRIGGS. Super royal 
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FLOREAT ETON A. Anecdotes and Memories of Eton 
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ETON IN THE FORTIES. Second edition, considerably 
revised aud enlarged. By an Old Colleger, ARTHUR 
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Crown 8vo. 6s. 

EDWARD THRING, Headmaster of Uppingham School. 
Life, Diary, and Letters. By GEORGE R. PARKIN, C.M.G. 
Abridged edition. Extra crown 8vo. 6s. 

Short Biographical Memoir. Written by some of his 
Pupils and Edited by his Son, HAROLD E. HAIG BROWN. 
With portrait. 8vo. 73. 6d. net. 

FREDERICK TEMPLE. An Appreciation. By E. G. SAND- 
FORD. With a Biographical Introduction by WILLIAM 
TEMPLE. With frontispiece. 8vo. 43. net. 





Kynaston, Herbert 
Herbert Xynaston