"Tis well! from this day forward we shall know
That in ourselves our safety must be sought,
That by our own right hands it must be wrought,
That we must stand unpropp'd, or be laid low.

A FEW eventful years have passed away
Since that auspicious day,

Wordsworth.

Which saw the flag of conquest furled,
And hailed the princes of the rescued world
Met in the land of Liberty, to raise

A holy hymn of gratitude and praise.
Hither to Learning's seat they came
Where never rung

War's brazen tongue,

Where the Muse watches at the gate of Fame,

And ever glories to enrol

Heroic deed and virtuous name

On her immortal scroll.

Thou wert the boast of that illustrious day,

Far as thou wert away,

In battle field or council board

Europe's best guardian with thy heart and sword!

Then first delighted Oxford hailed thee Son,
And twined thy wreath with laurels of her own:
Proud of the Chief, her country's pride,
In peril proved,

In conquest loved,

Peerless defender of the righteous side!
Perchance even then she saw in thee
In darker hour her chosen guide
Over a stormier sea.

That hour has come :-and thou art still the same

In mind, in heart, in fame,

The same that Gaul's proud legions found thee, And lord of all the gallant hearts around thee! Oh! we will never fear !—let foes be loud, Let envious tongues delude the gaping crowd, Let all I dare not speak come on, We will not fear

While thou art near!

Sooner shall mountain torrents backward run,
And Nubia's swarthy son grow pale,

Than against Truth and Wellington
The cause of wrong prevail !

Then welcome, welcome to the sacred halls
And venerable walls

Of ancient Learning, to the ground Where Cranmer died, and Charles a refuge found: To sit in Sheldon's dome on Sheldon's seat,

And tread the blessed steps of Grenville's feet.

Welcome to faithful hearts and

Trust without fear,

And love sincere,—

eyes,

And to those prayers we proffer to the skies,
That bounteous Heaven may spare thee still
Thy high and holy destinies

Triumphant to fulfil!

ROUNDELL PALMER, B. A.

TRINITY.

QUEMNAM salutas? Quem tibi præsidem, Scientiarum mater et artium,

Lauru triumphali decorum,

Concelebras, iterasque nomen?

Illum, minaci qui validus statu

Regum æstuantes contudit impetus,
Fastumque prostravit tyranni,

Quem pavidæ tremuere gentes;

Quem, ceu leonem, matris ab ubere
Jam lacte blandum, Gallia ceperat,
Formamque et admirans nitorem
Sæpius in gremio catellum
(Eheu! futuri non memor excidi)
Amplexa fovit; mox in ovilia

Natura demisit, catervam

Innocuam lacerare morsu.

Hunc proruisti, dux bone, fervidis
Telis adurgens, quum capitis minor
Te victor expavit, tuæque

Militiæ trepidavit æstum.

Te Vardulorum, te juga Vasconum
Sensere; nec mons Herminius tui
Mavortis ignarus ; nec arma

Unda Tagi, Duriusve nescit.

Quin et, supremum nobilitans decus,
Vidit, catervas impiger hostium
Quanta fatigaris ruina

Fulmineo violentus ictu,

Sambræ fluentum; tristis ager diem
Testatur, imber purpureus solum
Quum pingue ditaret, cruore

Quum flueret temeratus amnis.

Ergo salutem te, bone, gentium,
Insigne rebus te columen, suum
Europa natum vindicavit ;

Nec populo voluit, nec una

Ex urbe civem credere. Te Scythæ,
Et dura tellus jactat Iberiæ,

Campique Germani colonus,

Te Rhodani, Tiberisque potor.

Ergo et triumphos Isis agit suos;
Pimpleis ergo gestit, et imperi

C