To bless the place where on their opening soul

First the genuine ardour stole : 'Twas Milton struck the deep-ton'd shell, And, as the choral warblings round him swell, Meek Newton's self bends from his state sublimc, And nodsh is hoary hi ad, and listens to the rhyme.


"Ye brown o'er-arching groves,

That Contemplation loves,
Where willowy Camus lingers with delight !

Oft at the blush of dawn

I trod your level lawn, Oft woo'd the gleam of Cynthia silver-bright: In cloisters dim, far from the haunts of Folly, With Freedom by my side, and soft-ey'd Melan



But hark! the portals sound, and pacing forth

With solemn steps and slow,
High potentates, and dames of royal birth,
And mitred fathers in long order go:
Great Edward, with the lilies on his brow

From haughty Gallia torn,
And sad Chatillon, on her bridal mornt

• Edward the Third, who added the fleur de lys of France to the arnis of England. He founded Trinity College.

+ Mary de Valentia, Countess of Pembroke, daughter of Guy de (hatillon, Comte de St. Paul in France ; of whom tradition says, that her husband, Audemar de Valentia, Earl of Pembroke, wa slain at a tournament on the day of his nuptiais. She was the poin.dies of Peinbroke College or Hall, under the name of Aula Maria de Valentia,

That wept her bleeding love, and princely Clare,
And Anjou's Heroine, and the paler Rose,t
The rival of her crown and of her woes,

And either Henry there ; #
The murder'd Saint, and the majestic Lord

That broke the bonds of Rome.
(Their tears, their little triumphs o'er,

Their human passions now no more,
Save Charity, that glows beyond the tomb.)

All that on Granta's fruitful plain
Rich streams of regal bounty pour'd,
And bade these awful fanes and turrets rise,
To hail their Fitzroy's festal morning come ;

And thus they speak in soft accord
The liquid language of the skies :

What is Grandeur, what is Power!
Heavier toil, superior pain.
What the bright reward we gain!
The grateful memory of the good.

• Elizabeth de Burg, Countew of Clare, was wife of John de Burk, son and heir of the carl of Ulster, and daughter of Gilbert de Clare, earl of Gloucester, by Joan of Acres, daughter of Ed. ward the First. Hence the poet gives her the epithet ot' princrly. She founded Clare Hall.

+ Margaret of Anjou, wile of Henry the Sixth, foundress of Queen'. College.

Elizabeth Widville, wife of Edward the Fourth, hener called the paler rose, as being of the house of York. She added to the foundation of Margaret of Anjou.

Henry the Sixth and Eighth. The former the founder of King's, the latter the greatest benefactor to Trinity College.

Sweet is the breath of vernal shower
The bee's collected treasures sweet,
Sweet Music's melting fall, but sweeter yet
The still small voice of Gratitude.'


Foremost and leaning from her golden cloud

The venerable Margaret see !*
• Welcome, my noble son, (she cries aloud)

To this, thy kindred train, and me :
Pleas'd in thy lineaments we trace
A Tudor's fire, a Beaufort's grace.f


• Thy liberal heart, thy judging eye,
The flower unheeded shall descry,
And bid it round Heav'n's altar shed
The fragrance of its blushing head:
Shall raise from earth the latent gem
To glitter on the diadem.


* Lo, Granta waits to lead her blooming band,

Not obvious, not obtrusive, she
No vulgar praise, no venal incense flings;

Nor dares with courtly tongue refin'd
Profane thy inborn royalty of mind :

She reveres herself and thee.

• Countess of Richmond and Derby: the mother of Henry the Seventh, foundress of St. John's and Christ's Colleges.

+ The countess was a Beaufort, and married to a Tudor; hence the application of this line to the Duke of Grafton, who claims descent from both these families.

With modest pride to grace thy youthful brow, The laureate wreath that Cecil wore* she brings,

And to thy just, thy gentle hand,

Submits the fasces of her sway, While Spirits bless'd above, and Men below, Join with glad voice the loud symphonious lay.


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Through the wild waves as they roar
With watchful eye and dauntless mien

Thy steady course of honour keep,
Nor fear the rocks, nor seek the shore :
The Star of Brunswick smiles serene,

And gilds the horrors of the deep.'

* Lord Treasurer Burleigh was Chancellor of the University in the reign of Queen Elizabeth.

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Now the storm begins to lower,

(Haste, the loom of Hell prepare,) Iron-sleet of arrowy showert

Hurtles in the darken'd air.

• To be found in the Orcades of Thormodus Torfæus ; Hafniæ, 1697, folio : and also in Bartholinus.

Vut et or pit fyrir valfalii, dc. In the eleventh century, Sigurd, earl of the Orkney Islands, went with a fleet of ships, and a considerable body of troops, into Ireland, to the assistance of Sictryg with the silken beard, who was then making war on his father-in-law Brian, King of Dublin : the earl and all his forces were cut to pieces, and Siceryg was in danger of a total defeat; but the enertiy had a greater loss by the death of Brian, their king, who fell in the action. On Christ. mas day (the day of the battle) a native of Caithness, in Scotland, saw at a distance a number of persons on horseback, riding full speed towards a hill, and seeming to enter into it. Curiosity led him to follow them, till looking through an opening in the rocks he saw twelve gigantic figures, resembling women: they were all employed about a loom; and as they wove, they sung the following dreadful song ; which, when they had finished, they tore the web into twelve pieces, and (each taking her portion) galloped six to the north, and as many to the south. These were the Valkyriur, female Divinities, Servants of Odin (or Woden) in the Gothic mythology. Their name signifies Choosers of the Slain. Thry were mounted on swift horses, with drawn swords in their hands; and in the throng of battle selected such as were destined to slaughter, and conducted them to Valkalla, the hall of Odin, or Paradise of the Brave ; where they attended the banquet, and served the departed heroes with horns of mead and ale. + How quick they wheeld, and, flying, behind them, shot Sharp sleet of arrowy show r.

Milton's Paradise Regained.
The noise of battle hurtled in the air.

Shakspeare's Julius Cæsar.

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