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Say, shall the puny champion fondly dare
To wage with force like this scholastic war?
Still vainly scribble on with pert pretence,
With all the rage of pedant impotence ?
Say, shall I foster this domestic pest,
This parricide, that wounds a mother's breast ?

Thus in some gallant ship, that long has bore Britain's victorious cross from shore to shore, By chance, beneath her close sequester'd cells Some low-born worm, a lurking mischief dwells; Eats his blind way, and saps with secret guile The deep foundations of the floating pile. In vain the forest lent its stateliest pride, Rear'd her tall mast, and fram?d her knotty-side; The martial thunder's rage in vain she stood, With ev'ry conflict of the stormy flood; More sure the reptile's little arts devour Than wars, or waves, or Eurus' wint’ry pow's..

Ye fretted pinnacles, ye fapes sublime, Ye tow'rs.that wear the mossy vest of time!

Ye massy piles of old munificence,
At once the pride of learning and defence;
Ye cloisters pale, that length’ning to the sight
To contemplation, step by step, invite;
Ye high-arch'd walks, where oft the whispers clear
Of harps unseen have swept the poet's ear;
Ye temples dim, where pious duty pays
Her holy hymns of ever-echoing praise ;
Lo! your lov'd Isis, from the bord'ring vale,
With all a mother's fondness bids you hail !--
Hail, Oxford, hail! of all that's good and great,
Of all that's fair, the guardian and the seat;
Nurse of each brave pursuit, each gen'rous aim,
By truth exalted to the throne of fame!
Like Greece in science and in liberty,
As Athens learn'd, as Lacedemon free!

Ev’n now, confess’d to my adoring eyes,
In awful ranks thy gifted sons arise.
Tuning to knightly tale his British reeds,
Thy genuine bards immortal Chaucer leads :

His hoary head o'erlooks the gazing quire,
And beams on all around celestial fire.
With graceful step see Addison advance,
The sweetest child of Attic elegance :
See Chillingworth the depths of doubt explore,
And Seldon ope the rolls of ancient lore:
To all but his belov'd embrace deny’d,
See Lock lead Reason, his majestic bride :
See Hammond pierce Religion's golden mine,
And spread the treasur'd stores of Truth divine,

All who to Albion gave the arts of peace, And best the labours plann'd of letter'd ease; Who taught with truth, or with persuasion mov’d; Who sooth'd with numbers, or with sense improv'd; Who rang'd the pow'rs of reason, or refin'd All that adorn’d or humaniz’d the mind; Each priest of health, that mix'd the balmy bowl, To rear frail man, and stay the fleeting soul; All crowd around, and echoing to the sky, Hail ! Oxford, hail! with filial transport cry.

And see yon sapient train! with lib'ral aim, 'Twas theirs new plans of liberty to frame; And on the gothic gloom of slavish sway To shed the dawn of intellectual day. With mild debate each musing feature glows, And well-weigh'd counsels mark’d their meaning

brows. « Lo ! these the leaders of thy patriot line,” A Raleigh, Hampden, and a Somers, shine. These from thy-source the bold contagion caught, Their future sons the great example taught: While in each youth th' hereditary flame Still blazes, unextinguish'd, and the same!

Nor all the tasks of thoughful peace engage; 'Tis thine to form the hero as the sage. I see the sable-suited prince advance With lilies crown'd, the spoils of bleeding France, Edward. The Muses in yon cloister's shade Bound on his maiden thigh the martial blade : Bade him the steel for British freedom draw; And Oxford taught the deeds that Cressy saw.

And see, great father of the sacred band, The * Patriot King before me seems to stand. He, by the bloom of this gay vale beguild, That cheer'd with lively green the shaggy wild, llither of yore, forlorn forgotten maid, The Muse in prattling infancy convey'd ; From Vandal rage the helpless virgin bore, And fix'd her cradle on my friendly shore: Soon grew the maid beneath his fost'ring hand, Soon stream'd her blessings o’er th’ enlighten'd

land. Though simple was the dome, where first to dwell She deign’d, and rude her early Saxon cell, Lo! now she holds her state in sculptur'd bowers, And proudly lifts to Heaven her hundred towers. 'Twas Alfred first, with letters and with laws, Adorn’d, as he advanc'd, his country's cause : He bade relent the Briton's stubborn soul, And sooth'd to soft society's controul A rough untutord age. With raptur'd eye Elate he views his laureld progeny:

* Alfred. VOL. II.


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