As the gravel'd path we tread,
Wading through the empuddled square;
Parapluie of oil'd silk spread,

O'er the youthful beau's drest head.

Swift Italia's perfumes throw,

Ours to plaster ours to plat;

Spite of weather he shall go,
Gently spread the perfumed fat.

Hairs that once like bristles grim,
Greasy grew into his neck;
Soon shall stretch in order trim,
O'er the dark brown of his cheek.

Low the obdurate curl is laid,

By our irons straightened down ; Dress demands the finish'd head, Soon the fore-top shall be done.

Long shall Christ-Church smile with joy,
Such a head as this to see ;
Long her strains in praise employ,

Strains of wit and repartee.

Mille-fleur covers all his pate!
Trickling streams of Jasmine run!
Wave the puff in silky state,

Brothers cease! the work is done.

Hail the task and hail the hands,
Joy and triumph to our shop;
Joy to our barbaric hands,

Triumph o'er each blackguard crop.

Valet thou that tiest a tail,

Learn thy business from our song; Christ-Church, thro' each cloister pale, Spread our fame and credit long.

Brothers hence! your puffs lay down,

Each his powder-bag comprest;

Many a student in the town,
Waits impatient to be drest.

G. C. B.

2

O DE

To the RIVER CAM.

By GEORGE DYER.

I.

While yon sky-lark warbles high,
While yon Rustic whistles gay,
On thy banks oh Cam I lie;
Museful pour the pensive lay.
Willowy Cam thy lingering stream

Suits too well the thoughtful breast,
Languor here might love to dream,
Sorrow here might sigh to rest.

II.

Near yon steeple's tapering height,*
Beauteous Julia,† thou art laid;

*Chesterton Church, near Cambridge.

The young woman, on occasion of whose death was written Elegy the second, in the Author's Poems published in 1792.

I could linger thro' the night,
Still to mourn thee, lovely maid!
In yon garden Fancy reads,

Sophron strays no longer here :"
Then again my bosom bleeds;
Then I drop the silent tea

III..

Hoary Cam! steal slow along!
Near yon desolated grove

Sleep the partners of my song;

There with them I wont to rove. He the Youth+ of fairest fame, Hasten'd to an early tomb; Friendship shall record his name, Pity mourn his hapless doom.

*Robert Robinson, author of various ingenious and learned publications, whose memoirs were written by the author, resided in this village.

+ William Taylor, formerly fellow of Emanuel Col. lege; the most intimate and highly esteemed of the author's friends when at College: and if extensive learning, a sound judgment, a modest demeanor, and unblemished morals, have a claim to respectful remembrance, William Taylor will not be soon forgotten by him.

D

IV.

Hark! I hear the death-bell sound!

There another spirit fled !

Still mine ears the tidings wound;
Philo slumbers with the dead.
Well he knew the Critic's part;
Shakespeare's name to him was dear ;
Kind and gentle was his heart;
-Now again I drop the tear.

V.

Bending sad beside thy stream,
While I heave the frequent sigh,
Do thy rippling waters gleam,
Sympathetic murmuring by ?
Then Oh! Cam, will I return,

Hail thy soothing stream again,
And as viewing Julia's urn,