  ON OXFORD ALE. BY A GENTLEMAN OF TRINITY COLL. ——————Mea nec FalernÆ Balm of my cares, sweet solace of my toils, Hail Juice benignant! O'er the costly cups Of riot-stirring wine, unwholsome draught, Let Pride's loose sons prolong the wasteful night; My sober ev'ning let the tankard bless, With toast embrown'd, and fragrant nutmeg fraught, While the rich draught with oft-repeated whiffs Tobacco mild improves. Divine repast! Of lawless Bacchus reign; but o'er my soul A Calm Lethean creeps; in drowsy trance Each thought subsides, and sweet oblivion wraps My peaceful brain, as if the leaden rod Of magic Morpheus o'er mine eyes had shed Its opiate influence. What tho' sore ills Oppress, dire want of chill-dispelling coals Or chearful candle, (save the make-weight's gleam Haply remaining) heart-rejoicing Ale Chears the sad scene, and every want supplies. Meantime, not mindless of the daily task Of Tutor sage, upon the learned leaves Of deep Smiglecius much I meditate; While Ale inspires, and lends its kindred aid, The thought-perplexing labour to pursue, Sweet Helicon of Logic! But if friends Congenial call me from the toilsome page, To pot-house I repair, the sacred haunt, Where Ale, thy votaries in full resort, Hold rites nocturnal. In capacious chair Of monumental oak and antique mould, That long has stood the rage of conquering years Inviolate, (nor in more ample chair Smoaks rosy Justice, when th' important cause, Whether of hen-roost, or of mirthful rape, In all the majesty of paunch he tries) Studious of ease, and provident, I place Returns replenish'd, the successive cup, And the brisk fire conspires to genial joy: While haply, to relieve the ling'ring hours In innocent delight, amusive Putt On smooth joint-stool in emblematic play The vain vicissitudes of fortune shews. Nor reck'ning, name tremendous, me disturbs, Nor, call'd for, chills my breast with sudden fear; While on the wonted door, expressive mark, The frequent penny stands describ'd to view, In snowy characters and graceful row.—— Hail, ticking! surest guardian of distress! Beneath thy shelter pennyless I quaff The chearful cup, nor hear with hopeless heart New oysters cry'd:—tho' much the poet's friend, Ne'er yet attempted in poetic strain, Accept this tribute of poetic praise!—— Nor Proctor thrice with vocal heel alarms Our joys secure, nor deigns the lowly roof Of pot-house snug to visit: wiser he The splendid tavern haunts, or coffee-house Of James or Juggins, where the grateful breath Of loath'd tobacco ne'er diffus'd its balm; But the lewd spendthrift, falsely deem'd polite, While steams around the fragrant Indian bowl, Oft damns the vulgar sons of humbler Ale: In vain——the Proctor's voice arrests their joys; Nor less by day delightful is thy draught, All-pow'rful Ale! whose sorrow-soothing sweets Oft I repeat in vacant afternoon, When tatter'd stockings ask my mending hand Not unexperienc'd; while the tedious toil Slides unregarded. Let the tender swain Each morn regale on nerve-relaxing tea, Companion meet of languor-loving nymph: Be mine each morn with eager appetite And hunger undissembled, to repair To friendly buttery; there on smoaking crust And foaming Ale to banquet unrestrain'd, Material breakfast! Thus in ancient days Our ancestors robust with liberal cups Usher'd the morn, unlike the squeamish sons Of modern times: Nor ever had the might Of Britons brave decay'd, had thus they fed With British Ale improving British worth. With Ale irriguous, undismay'd I hear The frequent dun ascend my lofty dome Importunate: whether the plaintive voice Of laundress shrill awake my startled ear; Or barber spruce with supple look intrude; Or taylor with obsequious bow advance; Or groom invade me with defying front And stern demeanour, whose emaciate steeds (Whene'er or Phoebus shone with kindlier beams, Had panted oft beneath my goring steal. In vain they plead or threat: All-powerful Ale Excuses new supplies, and each descends With joyless pace, and debt-despairing looks: E'en spacey with indignant brow retires, Fiercest of duns! and conquer'd quits the field. Why did the gods such various blessings pour On hapless mortals, from their grateful hands So soon the short-liv'd bounty to recall?—— Thus, while improvident of future ill, I quaff the luscious tankard unrestrain'd, And thoughtless riot in unlicens'd bliss; Sudden (dire fate of all things excellent!) Th' unpitying Bursar's cross-affixing hand Blasts all my joys, and stops my glad career. Nor now the friendly pot-house longer yields A sure retreat, when night o'ershades the skies; Nor sheppard barbarous matron, longer gives The wonted trust, and winter ticks no more. Thus adam, exil'd from the beauteous scenes Of Eden griev'd, no more in fragrant bow'r On fruits divine to feast, fresh shade or vale, No more to visit, or vine-mantled grot; But, all forlorn, the dreary wilderness, And unrejoicing solitudes to trace: Thus too the matchless bard, whole lay resounds The splendid shilling's praise, in nightly gloom Whose steps in verse Miltonic I pursue, Mean follower, like him with honest love Of Ale divine inspir'd, and love of song. But long may bounteous heav'n with watchful care Avert his hapless lot! Enough for me That burning with congenial flame I dar'd His guiding steps at distance to pursue, And sing his favorite theme in kindred strains. THE |
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