Takings, or, The life of a collegian : a poem . rue, My hat and wig were in a moment lost,Borne by the winds feloniously from view ; Whilst their hoarse roar, which now began to scare, Told that my head, like Neptunes, might go bare. 142 TAKINGS. XXXV My silk umbrella, with my wig and hat, Strove to take flight, I scarcely could restrain The struggler, till at last I squeezed it flat,And put it down, regardless of the rain. This cooled me—Now, confessed Times healing balm, Im for a poet comfortably calm. XXXVI. Feasted by Wiggins, Tom, he knew not why,Felt very seldom in the mood to write, Sti
Takings, or, The life of a collegian : a poem . rue, My hat and wig were in a moment lost,Borne by the winds feloniously from view ; Whilst their hoarse roar, which now began to scare, Told that my head, like Neptunes, might go bare. 142 TAKINGS. XXXV My silk umbrella, with my wig and hat, Strove to take flight, I scarcely could restrain The struggler, till at last I squeezed it flat,And put it down, regardless of the rain. This cooled me—Now, confessed Times healing balm, Im for a poet comfortably calm. XXXVI. Feasted by Wiggins, Tom, he knew not why,Felt very seldom in the mood to write, Still muttering to himself— Pshaw, put it by,Why should you make yourself a slave to-night ? With early morn rise—youll be fitter then. And so he went to bed, and slept till ten. XXXVII. But he reflected welcomes will wear out,And, notwithstanding the polite assertions Of joy to see him, he, beyond all doubt,Had rather flourished by his own exertions: So he resolved to cudgel hard his brain, And, as a poet, try his fate again. <Uf/T fell. ftu -iD^ 7/ Hi i*>Ftof off 1nfl rfijwiort rtt ot enutao} irfl1 /J/ XX nsi lorfio lo atoo*! • «f) gninsKjo orit ;{irighd erfi snuoY —v/ai) of! lo id ^ujoy bnA loimon (t ?fuoY »dijnJ fc&iof? .floa lo afoiowofi odi Kb fori A Lai* tnoom odJ Jim tuohofg odi tooi t«iuoTt ; fcbfl&dwqmoo nssoo ^xritdedi Uu ?.woY w %afo&tm$b t89jLftfjpfilt«t) ^snimjai slid 1JJOf;> liOBQ fcfIB t$fiO« falod >ib 9 bom no hnc CANTO V. 143 XXXVIII. Twas difficult to hit upon a plan That with complacency he could regard, All that could gratify the ear of man,And give or fame or fortune to the bard, Had been exhausted in the favoured strains Of those who shone the boast of other reigns. XXXIX. • Poets of other times ! to swell your layWhat treasures burst on your delighted view ! Yours the bright landscape—yours the opening day,And yours
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