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THE HAILEYBURIAN 53.

on as long as you may, another eclipse will soon occur, and your “moon” will sink behind yonder dark line of hills, before the shadow has passed off its face. You will then be off again, and the old, old story, will be told anew. And thus throughout, your life is but a series of vain pursuits, and at the end, the vulture Remorse will dig his ruthless fangs into your undying heart; you will be tantalized with the sight of all your “moons” at once, but though you “cry” for ever, not one of them may be yours. Be warned, then, to be moderate in your aims, and to persevere. If you do this, success will attend you.

Such was the inspired warning voice heard by the dreamer, as he slept a restless sleep after a long and fruitless effort to invent a balloon, which might convey him to the sixth “moon,” which had engrossed his thoughts for as many months. You may say, Haileybury brothers, that the idea of inspiration is all moonshine, but is there not truth in this voice from dreamland?

ROOFED.

“HAILEYBURIENSIS” ESURIENS IPSE LOQUITUR.

Ghosts! Ghosts! Ghosts! Ghosts!

Such, Mr. Editor, the unsubstantial food— The aërated bread—your boys impart To me, your starving “Haileyburian.”*

(1) ‘Spectres’ by Reichenbach; a mouthful this, Succeeded by(2) a dose of ancient days And phantom heroes of the golden age; (3) Then a good feed of chaff, a mocking tale Of nightly visitations from white bogies, Shirts, pigs, or curtains, as the case may be: (4) Lastly, the "grim black" grave doth condescend To take the “dewy sweetly scented” rose Into its confidence, and gravely tell How easily it turns out in the day So many millions of bright angel spirits.

* See No. 27 of The Haileyburian.

So much for shadows: next in order come Two poems, sweet, but short-and nought besides.

For two long months I had to be content With six brief compositions; then, as if To mock my pangs, by showing that the will Alone was wanting to supply my needs (Your children's vigour being no whit impaired), I found myself compelled to bolt and swallow No less than two and thirty ‘football matches,’ De luxe, mon cher,—and then a rich dessert Of Racquets, Pastimes, Games, and Bumping Boats. Surely, there must be time, in intervals Between the calls of study, games, and sleep, To write a contribution to my pages. At any rate, there must be many men, Who glory in the title of Old Boys. Where is the produce of their polished pens? Let them not fear that they will have no readers. They once were of us, and whenever now They favour us with the compressed results Of their more varied and prolonged experience, We hail their words with gladness, since we feel That this slight show of interest closer draws The bonds that bind them to us. And now at parting, let me warn you children, Lest by your carelessness and indolence You forfeit for your magazine (myself) The lofty place it now has held so long, And find yourselves eclipsed by Bengeoites.

CENSOR.

SPRING.

How sweet to float upon the world of waves! When Zephyr, softly kissing sea and earth, Enticing weds the heart of man to mirth; And ocean lovingly the shingle laves;

When Phoebus, yet withholding summer heat, Gladly bestows around his milder rays; And earth and sky with light seem all ablaze; And ocean's broad expanse a golden sheet;

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54 THE HAILEYBURIAN.

To watch majestic vessels gliding by, Through all the stillness of the genial day; And rocking lazily upon the bay, To hear the joyous sea-birds' shrilling cry.

Reflexion oft shall move the soul to dream Of happiness and love and liberty; Of swiftly fleeting years, of days gone by; And thus within to whisper sadly seem:

“This is the May of life. A time shall be When shadowy storms athwart th' horizon lower. Gone gladsome spring! gone joys! ah, then to cower A bark forlorn upon a gloom of sea!”

D. R. MOTIF.

&Igr;&Agr;&Bgr;&Egr;&Igr;&Rgr;&Ogr;&KHgr;&Ogr;&PHgr;&Ogr;&Ngr;&Tgr;'&EEgr;&Sgr;.

CARMEN SPECULARE.

1Torre erat, et celeres, viscosa animalia, Tovi Undique gyrantur gimbuliantque simul: Torre erat, et Borogophia, inepta, misella, vagantur, Errantesque crepant 2 hinnululantque rathi. “Heus! fuge Iabberochum, fuge ineluctabile monstrum, Cui lacerant fauces, ungula sæva rapit! Jubjubiam volucrem monitus fuge semper, et, oro, 3 Grutilis insidias, spes mea, Bandirapæ!” Haud mora, vorpalem dextrâ cito corripit ensem, 4 Manxile sed vanâ jam petit arte malum: Ergo te subter, Tumtummia, constitit, arbos, Et mentem huc illuc dividit ille suam. Anxius impatiensque diu meditatur, et ecce, Expectatus adest, instat Iabberochus! Torva videns, 5 sifflata sonans, curritque volatque, Per nemus 6 obscuvium, burbuleransque furit! Jamque ferit, bis terque ferit; per membra, per artus, Crip-crepitu diro fecerat ensis iter; Et caput abscissum 7 prostratæ in pulvere pestis Rettulit, exclamans, Trumphe! Galumphe! domum.

“Quid? tu Jabberochum, monstrum fatale, necasti?” (Sic pater amplexus), “ 8 lustrigerate puer!” “O jubilosa dies,” reboat, “Callôque calæque!” Lætitiaque satur chortulat ore senex.

1. Torre: nomen indecl: a torrendo cf. “mane,”

2. Hinnululant: i.e. hinnitu ululant, vel ululatu hinniunt.

3. Grutilis: verbum esotericum, quod frumiositatem quandam, si placet, exprimit.

4. Manxile: quod manet, h. e. latet.

5. Sifflata: onomatop: Anglicé “whiffling.”

6. Obscuvium, i.e. obscurum, invium.

7. Mira certe et exquisita literarum collocatio! Nonne vides, lector acutissime, non modo mortuum, sed jamjam putrescens et fœtidum cadaver?

8. Lustrigerate: qui de rebus gestis illustris factus es.

THE PHŒNIX.

A Haileybury Song, to the tune of “So hurrah for the pipe so rich and ripe,” &c.

A bird there was in days of old (Each one the story knows), Who birth did claim from a nest on flame, And a dying mother's throes. And we are like that bird of yore, And we like her were born; We drew life-breath from a parent's death, Left lone but not forlorn. (Chorus.) So here's to all whose deeds have won For Haileybury glory; Ours be the aim to uphold their fame, And prove the Phœnix story.

We boast no kingly founder's name, We boast no royal clan; Of a sterner mould were those of old, Our glory who began. We train no dainty sons of wealth, To dance with luxury's daughters; In the torrid zone our name is known, Where Ganges rolls his waters. Chorus—So here's to all, &c.

Then let us for our motto each Our “Sursum Corda” take; And upward still with a sturdy will Our path to honour make.