Classic Poem

In allusion to Horace, Book iii. Ode 30.

Exegi monumentum aere perennius, &c.

'Tis done: — I tow'r to that degree,
And catch such heav'nly fire,
That H ORACE ne'er could rant like me,
Nor is King's-chapel higher.
My name in sure recording page
Shall time itself o'erpow'r,
If no rude mice with envious rage
The buttery books devour.
A title too, with added grace,
My name shall now attend,
Till to the church with silent pace
A nymph and priest ascend.
Ev'n in the schools I now rejoice,
Where late I shook with fear,
Nor heed the Moderator's voice
Loud thund'ring in my ear.
Then with Æolian flute I blow
A soft Italian lay,
Or where Cam's scanty waters flow,
Releas'd from lectures, stray.
Meanwhile, friend Banks , my merits claim
Their just reward from you,
For H ORACE bids us challenge fame,
When once that fame's our due.
Invest me with a graduate's gown,
Midst shouts of all beholders,
My head with ample square-cap crown,
And deck with hood my shoulders.