.Nw.ODcx: Difference between revisions
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?n he, can such a one forget | [?]n he, can such a one forget | ||
?y native humour, sterling wit? | [?]y native humour, sterling wit? | ||
No, Garrick, he must surely find, | No, Garrick, he must surely find, | ||
deeply imprinted on his mind, | deeply imprinted on his mind, | ||
? such warm tints thy form and face | [?] such warm tints thy form and face | ||
No time or distance can efface. | No time or distance can efface. | ||
[flourishes] | |||
An ode by an Under Graduate of | An ode by an Under Graduate of | ||
Line 15: | Line 16: | ||
Muses in plaintive numbers tell | Muses in plaintive numbers tell | ||
How lov'd he liv'd -- how mourn'd he fell -- | How lov'd he liv'd -- how mourn'd he fell -- | ||
Catullus wail'd his sparrow's fate, | Catullus 'wail'd his sparrow's fate, | ||
And Gray immortaliz'd his | And Gray immortaliz'd his Cat. | ||
Thrice tuneful bonds! could I but chime so clever, | Thrice tuneful bonds! could I but chime so clever, | ||
My Quart, my honest Quart, should live for ever. | My Quart, my honest Quart, should live for ever. | ||
How weak is all a mortal power | How weak is all a mortal power | ||
T'avert the death of | T'avert the death of devoted hour! | ||
Nor can a shape or beauty save | Nor can a shape or beauty save | ||
from the sure conquest of the Grave. | from the sure conquest of the Grave. |
Revision as of 06:30, 22 July 2017
[?]n he, can such a one forget [?]y native humour, sterling wit? No, Garrick, he must surely find, deeply imprinted on his mind, [?] such warm tints thy form and face No time or distance can efface. [flourishes]
An ode by an Under Graduate of Lincoln College Oxford, on breaking a China Quart Mug belonging to the Buttens of that Society
Amphora non mercait tam pretiosa mori Whenever the cruel hand of Death Untimely stops a fav'rite's breath, Muses in plaintive numbers tell How lov'd he liv'd -- how mourn'd he fell -- Catullus 'wail'd his sparrow's fate, And Gray immortaliz'd his Cat. Thrice tuneful bonds! could I but chime so clever, My Quart, my honest Quart, should live for ever.
How weak is all a mortal power T'avert the death of devoted hour! Nor can a shape or beauty save from the sure conquest of the Grave.