[NOTE.--The following lines were written to celebrate the 'bump' by
which the Lady Margaret 1st Boat became "Head of the River" in 1871.
On the next evening Professor Selwyn delighted the eyes and the hearts
of all Johnians by sculling down the river to salute the Head of the
River. The title of _psychroloutes_ [*] needs no explanation to those
who know the Selwyns, who are no less renowned as swimmers than as
oarsmen.]
"Tell me, Muse, what colour floateth round
the River's ancient head:
Is it white and black, or white and blue, is it
scarlet, blue, or red?"
Thus I prayed, and Clio answered, "Why, I thought
the whole world knew
That the red of Margareta had deposed the flag
of blue!
Babes unborn shall sing in rapture how, desiring
Close [1] affinity,
Goldie, rowing nearly fifty, overlapped, and bumped
First Trinity.
I myself was at the Willows, and beheld the victory won;
Saw the victor's final effort, and the deed of daring done.
I myself took off my bonnet, and forgetful of my years,
Patting Goldie on the shoulder, gave him three
times thrice three cheers.
Ne'er, oh! ne'er, shall be forgotten the excitement
of that night;
Aged Dons, deem'd stony-hearted, wept with
rapture at the sight:
E'en the Master of a College, as he saw them overlap,
Shouted 'Well rowed, Lady Margaret,' and took
off his College cap;
And a Doctor of Divinity, in his Academic garb,
Sang a solemn song of triumph, as he lashed his
gallant barb;
Strong men swooned, and small boys whistled,
sympathetic hounds did yell
Lovely maidens smiled their sweetest on the men
who'd rowed so well:
Goldie, Hibbert, Lang, and Bonsey, Sawyer,
Burnside, Harris, Brooke;
And the pride of knighthood, Bayard, who the
right course ne'er forsook,
But the sight which most rejoiced me was the
well-known form aquatic
Of a scholar famed for boating and for witticisms Attic.
Proud, I ween, was Lady Margaret her Professor
there to view,
As with words of wit and wisdom he regaled the
conquering crew.
Proud, I ween, were Cam and Granta, as they
saw once more afloat
Their Etonian _psychroloutes_ [*], in his "Funny"
little boat.
Much, I ween, their watery spirits did within
their heart's rejoice,
As they listened to the music of that deep and
mellow voice.
Ah! 'tis well, to sing of boating, when before
my swimming eyes
Baleful visions of the future, woes unutterable rise.
All our palmy days are over; for the fairer, feebler sex
Has determined every College in succession to annex;
And before another decade has elapsed, our eyes shall see
College Tutors wearing thimbles o'er convivial cups of tea.
For 'golden-haired girl-graduates,' with 'Dowagers
for Dons,'
Shall tyrannize in Trinity, and domineer in 'John's.'
Then, instead of May Term races in the science grand
of rowing,
There'll be constant competition in the subtle art
of sewing.
Soon the modern undergraduate, with a feather in her hat,
Shall parade the streets of Cambridge, followed
by her faithful cat.
From Parker's Piece and Former's shall be banished
bat and wicket,
For crotchet work and knitting shall supplant the
game of cricket,
Save whene'er a match at croquet once a Term is
played at Girton
By the Members of "the College" and the Moralists
of Merton.
Then no tandems shall be driven, and no more
athletic sports,
Save fancy balls and dances, shall appear in
"Field" reports:
And instead of 'pots' and 'pewters' to promote
the art of walking,
We shall have a silver medal for proficiency in talking.
Wranglers fair shall daily wrangle, who no
Mathematics ken;
Lady preachers fill the pulpit, lady critics
wield the pen.
O ye gallant, gallant heroes who the River's
head have won,
Little know ye what an era of confusion hath begun.
I myself shall flee from Cambridge, sick at heart
and sorely vexed,
Ere I see my University disestablished and unsexed.'"
Thus she spake, and I endeavoured to console the
weeping Muse:
"Dry your tears, beloved Clio, drive away this
fit of blues.
Cease your soul with gloomy fancies and forebodings
to perplex;
You are doing gross injustice to the merits of your sex.
Know you not that things are changing, that the
Earth regains her youth,
Since Philosophers have brought to light the one
primeval truth?
Long have all things been misgoverned by the
foolish race of men,
Who've monopolized sword, sceptre, mitre, ermine,
spade, and pen,
All the failures, all the follies, that the weary
world bewails,
Have arisen, trust me, simply from the government of males.
But a brighter age is dawning; in the circling of the years
Lordly woman sees before her new 'ambitions,' new careers;
For the world's regeneration instantaneously began,
When Philosophers discovered the inferior claims of man.
With new honours Alma Mater shall eternally be crowned,
When the Ladies march in triumph, and her learned
seat surround;
Then a nobler race of students, and of athletes
shall arise,
Students fair who thirst for knowledge, athletes
true who 'pots' despise.
It is well for thee, sweet Clio, at their harmless
tastes to sneer,
At their love of cats and croquet, their antipathy
to beer;
But as soon as every College has surrendered to the fair,
Life up here will be perfection, we shall breathe
ambrosial air;
For the problem of past ages will be solved, and
we shall find
The superior powers of woman, both in body and in mind.
She shall teach us how to study, how to ride,
and run, and row;
How to box and play at cricket; how the heavy
weight to throw;
How to shoot the trembling pigeon; how the wily rat
to slay;
How at football and at racquets; how at whist and
chess to play;
How to drive the rapid tandem; how to jump, and how
to walk;
(For young women, trust me, Clio, can do something
more than talk)
How to climb the Alps in summer; how in winter time
to skate;
How to hold the deadly rifle; how a yacht to navigate;
How to make the winning hazard with an effort sure
and strong;
How to play the maddening comet, how to sing a comic song;
How to 'utilize' Professors; how to purify the Cam;
How to brew a sherry cobbler, and to make red-currant jam.
All the arts which now we practise in a desultory way
Shall be taught us to perfection, when we own the
Ladies' sway."
Thus I spake, and strove by speaking to assuage
sweet Clio's fears;
But she shook her head in sorrow, and departed drowned
in tears.
(1874).
[1] Mr. J. B. Close, a well-known oarsman, stroke of the First Trinity
1st Boat.
[*] [Transcriber's note: The word "psychroloutes" appears in the
original book in Greek. It has been transliterated from the Greek
letters psi, upsilon, chi, rho, omicron, lambda, omicron, upsilon, tau,
eta, and sigma.]