Granta
A Medley
by George Gordon, Lord Byron
(Composed: 1806)
(From Hours of Idleness - 1807)
1
- Oh! could Le Sages demons gift
- Be realized at my desire,
- This night my trembling form hed lift
- To place it on St. Marys spire.
2
- Then would, unroofd, old Grantas halls
- Pedantic inmates full display;
- Fellows who dream on lawn or stalls
- The price of venal votes to pay.
3
- Then would I view each rival wight,
- Petty and Palreerston survey;
- Who canvass there with all their might,
- Against the next elective day.
4
- Lo! candidates and voters lie
- All lulld in sleep, a goodly number;
- A race renownd for piety
- Whose conscience wont disturb their slumber.
5
- Lord H, indeed, may not demur:
- Fellows are sage, reflecting men:
- They know preferment can occur
- But very seldom,now and then.
6
- They know the Chancellor has got
- Some pretty livings in disposal:
- Each hopes that one may be his lot,
- And therefore smiles on his proposal.
7
- Now from the soporific scene
- Ill turn mine eye, as night grows later,
- To view, unheeded and unseen,
- The studious sons of Alma Mater.
8
- There, in apartments small and damp,
- The candidate for college prizes
- Sits poring by the midnight lamp;
- Goes late to bed, yet early rises.
9
- He surely well deserves to gain them,
- With all the honours of his college,
- Who, striving hardly to obtain them,
- Thus seeks unprofitable knowledge:
10
- Who sacrifices hours of rest
- To scan precisely meres Attic;
- Or agitates his anxious breast
- In solving problems mathematic:
11
- Who reads false quantities in Seale,
- Or puzzles oer the deep triangle;
- Deprived of many a wholesome meal;
- In barbarous Latin doomd to wrangle:
12
- Renouncing every pleasing page
- From authors of historic use;
- Preferring to the letterd sage
- The square of the hypothenuse.
13
- Still, harmless are these occupations
- That hurt none but the hapless student,
- Compared with other recreations,
- Which bring together the imprudent;
14
- Whose daring revels shock the sight,
- When vice and infamy combine,
- When drunkenness and dice invite,
- As every sense is steepd in wine.
15
- Not so the methodistic crew,
- Who plans of reformation lay:
- In humble attitude they sue,
- And for the sins of others pray:
16
- Forgetting that their pride of spirit
- Their exultation in their trial
- Detracts most largely from the merit
- Of all their boasted self-denial.
17
- Tis morn:from these I turn my sight.
- What scene is this which meets the eye?
- A numerous crowd, arrayd in white,
- Across the green in numbers fly.
18
- Loud rings in air the chapel bell;
- Tis hushd:what sounds are these I hear?
- The organs soft celestial swell
- Rolls deeply on the listning ear.
19
- To this is joind the sacred song,
- The royal minstrels hallowd strain;
- Though he who hears the music long
- Will never wish to hear again.
20
- Our choir would be scarcely excused,
- Even as a band of raw beginners;
- All mercy now must be refused
- To such a set of croaking sinners.
21
- If David, when his toils were ended,
- Had heard these blockheads sing before him,
- To us his psalms had neer descended,
- In furious mood he would have tore em.
22
- The luckless Israelites, when taken
- By some inhuman tyrants order,
- Were askd to sing, by joy forsaken
- On Babylonian rivers border.
23
- Oh! had they sung in notes like these,
- Inspired by stratagem or fear,
- They might have set their hearts at ease
- The devil a soul had stayd to hear.
24
- But if I scribble longer now
- The deuce a soul will stay to read;
- My pen is blunt, my ink is low;
- Tis almost time to stop, indeed.
25
- Therefore, farewell old Grantas spires!
- No more like Cleofas, I fly;
- No more thy theme my muse inspires;
- The readers tired, and so am I.
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