The Sorrows Of Father Cam.

    1. WATNEY        Lady Margaret.        
    2. BEEBEE        Lady Margaret.        
    3. PIGOTT        Corpus                        
    4. KINGLAKE    3rd Trinity.            
    5. STEAVENSON    Trinity Hall
    6. BORTHWICK    1st Trinity.
    7. GRIFFITHS    3rd Trinity.
    8. LAWES        3rd Trinity.
                    Steerer, ARCHER, Corpus.


    One night, as I silently wandered
        By Cam's slow meandering stream,
    And many things mentally pondered,
        I saw, as it were in a dream,
    A black head emerge from the billows,
        A broad body swim through the flood,
    Till, beneath the o'ershadowing willows,
        It sank gently down in the mud.

    All alone - as a Scholar of Tyrwhitt
        When examined in Hebrew he sits -
    On a log that mysterious spirit
        Smokes in silence, and silently spits.
    And yet not alone sat the vision;
        There came, as he sat on his log,
    A wag of delight and submission
        From the tail of each demi-drowned dog.

    Black eels from his temples were hanging,
        His teeth were like teeth of a jack;
    His lips were inaudibly "slanging";
        His eyes were all muddy and black;
    And water-snakes, round his neck twining,
        Were hissing; and water-rats swam
    At his feet; so without much divining
        I recognised Old Father Cam.

    "All hail to thee, Camus the reedy!"
        I cried, in alarm and surprise;
    "Say, why are thy garments so weedy?
        And why are these tears in thine eyes?"
    Then the River-god answered me sadly,
        "My glory aquatic is gone!
    My prospects, alas! look but badly;
        Not a race for four years have I won.

    "I have oarsmen as strong - -even stronger -
        Than when my first honours I bore;
    Their arms are as long - perhaps longer;
        Their shoulders as broad as of yore,
    Yet the prospects of light-blue look bluer;
        I am losing my swing, form and time;
    For who can row well in a sewer;
        Or pull through miasma and slime?"

    Thus murmured the River-god moaning;
        But I bade him to dry his old eye -
    "In vain is this weeping and groaning;
        Let your motto be, 'Never say die!'
    Though your waves be more foul than Cocytus,
        Though your prospects, no doubt, are most blue;
    Since Oxford is ready to fight us,
        We will try to select a good crew.

    My friend Lady Margaret tells me
        She can lend me a Bow and a Two;
    The Lady, I own, sometimes sells me,
        But this time I am sure she'll be true.
    For WATNEY is wiry and plucky,
        And that BEEBEE'S A 1 all allow;
    And our boat cannot fail to be lucky
        With a double 1st Class in the bow.

    "Then Corpus its PIGOTT shall lend us,
        Young, healthy, and active, and strong;
    And Etona her KINGLAKE shall send us,
        To row our good vessel along;
    And Five from the head of the river,
        Like Pallas from Jove's head appearing,
    Shall add to the weight of the quiver
        Of the feather-weight Argonaut steering.

    "Then BORTHWICK, the mighty and massive,
        Shall row like a Briton at Six;
    And GRIFFITHS, not prone to be passive,
        Shall pull us to glory like bricks.
    Our 'Stroke,' people say, on the feather
        Is a trifle too fond of a pause;
    But while some say, 'there's nothing like leather,'
        I maintain there is nothing like LAWES.

    "Washerwomen, not over aquatic,
        Says he rows 'like a mangle' - what trash!
    That his swing and his time are erratic;
        That he puts in his oar with a splash.
    But these wonderful judges of rowing,
        If we win will be loud in applause;
    And declare 'the result was all owing
        To that excellent stroke, MR. LAWES.'

    "Our Coach, on the bank briskly riding,
        Will keep his strong team well together,
    His Bucephalus gamely bestriding,
        In spite of the wind and the weather.
    For the laws of the land you may send me
        To Counsel from chambers in Town;
    For the laws of the river commend me
        To the CHAMBERS of Cambridge renown.

    "Then cheer up, beloved Father Camus!
        Blow your nose! dry those tears that are falling;
    You will live once again to be famous,
        In spite of the prospects appalling.
    Though dead dogs down your fair stream are floating,
        Father Cam will their odours defy;
    Though Oxford may beat us in boating,
        Yet Cambridge will 'never say die!'"

    (1865).