A Tragedy Of The 19th Century.

    "Et potis es nigrum vitio praefigere Delta." - PERSIUS.


    It was a young Examiner, scarce thirty were his years,
    His name our University loves, honours, and reveres:
    He pondered o'er some papers, and a tear stood in his eye;
    He split his quill upon the desk, and raised a bitter cry -
    'O why has Fortune struck me down with this unearthly blow?
    "Why doom'd me to examine in my lov'd one's Little-go?
    "O Love and Duty, sisters twain, in diverse ways ye pull;
    "I dare not 'pass,' I scarce can 'pluck:' my cup of woe is full.
    "O that I ever should have lived this dismal day to see"!
    He knit his brow, and nerved his hand, and wrote the fatal D.

                *            *            *            *            *            *

    It was a lovely maiden down in Hertford's lovely shire;
    Before her on a reading-desk, lay many a well-filled quire:
    The lamp of genius lit her eyes; her years were twenty-two;
    Her brow was high, her cheek was pale, her bearing somewhat blue:
    She pondered o'er a folio, and laboured to divine
    The mysteries of "x" and "y," and many a magic sign:
    Yet now and then she raised her eye, and ceased awhile to ponder,
    And seem'd as though inclined to allow her thoughts elsewhere to wander,
    A step was heard, she closed her book; her heart beat high and fast,
    As through the court and up the stairs a manly figure passed.
    One moment more, the opening door disclosed unto her view
    Her own beloved Examiner, her friend and lover true.
    "Tell me, my own Rixator, is it First or Second Class?"
    His firm frame shook, he scarce could speak, he only sigh'd "Alas!"
    She gazed upon him with an air serenely calm and proud -
    "Nay, tell me all, I fear it not" - he murmured sadly "Ploughed."
    She clasped her hands, she closed her eyes as fell the word of doom;
    Full five times round in silence did she pace her little room;
    Then calmly sat before her books, and sigh'd "Rixator dear,
    "Give me the list of subjects to be studied for next year."

    "My own brave Mathematica, my pupil and my pride,
    "My persevering Student whom I destine for my bride;
    "Love struggled hard with Duty, while the lover marked you B;
    "In the end the stern Examiner prevailed and gave you D.
    "Mine was the hand that dealt the blow!    Alas, against my will
    "I plucked you in Arithmetic - and can'st thou love me still?"
    She gazed upon him and her eye was full of love and pride -
    "Nay these are but the trials, Love, by which true love is tried.

    "I never knew your value true, until you marked me D:
    "D stands for dear, and dear to me you evermore shall be."

                *            *            *            *            *            *

    A year had passed, and she had passed, for morning, noon, and night,
    Her Euclid and her Barnard-Smith had been her sole delight.
    Soon "Baccalaurea Artium" was added to her name,
    And Hitchin's groves, and Granta's courts resounded with her fame;
    And when Rixator hurried down one day by the express,
    And asked if she would have him, I believe she answered "Yes."
    For now they live together, and a wiser, happier pair,
    More learned and more loving, can scarce be found elsewhere;
    And they teach their children Euclid, and their babies all can speak
    French and German in their cradles, and at five can write good Greek;
    And he is a Professor and she Professoress,
    And they never cease the Little-go in gratitude to bless;
    When love could not the Lover from the path of duty sway,
    And no amount of plucking could his Student fair dismay.


    MORAL.

    Faint heart ne'er won fair lady, if in love you would have luck,
    In wooing, as in warfare, trust in nothing else than pluck.

    (1871).