I. VASHTI’S SONG Over the rim of the Moor, And under the starry sky, Two men came to my door And rested them thereby.

’Tis pretty to be in Ballinderry, ’Tis pretty to be in Ballindoon, But ’tis prettier far in County K… Coortin’ under the bran’ new moon, Aroon, Aroon!

Hush! and again the chatter of the… Athwart the lawn! Lean your head close and closer.… It is the dawn. Dawn in the dusk of her dream,

By E. A. P. In the sad and sodden street, To and fro, Flit the fever-stricken feet Of the freshers as they meet,

By the late W. W. (of H.M. Inla… And is it so? Can Folly stalk And aim her unrespecting darts In shades where grave Professors… And Bachelors of Arts?

Who lives in suit of armour pent And hides himself behind a wall, For him is not the great event, The garland nor the Capitol. And is God’s guerdon less than th…

Young Knight, the lists are set t… Hereafter shall be time to pray In sepulture, with hands of stone. Ride, then! outride the bugle blow… And gaily dinging down the van,

A month ago Lysander pray’d To Jove, to Cupid, and to Venus, That he might die if he betray’d A single vow that pass’d between u… Ah, careless gods, to hear so ill

To commemorate the virtue of Homo… Love, that in a tear was drown’d, Lives revived by a tear. Stella heard them mourn around Love that in a tear was drown’d,

He. Aglai-a! Aglai-a! Sweet, awaken and be glad. She. Who is this that calls Aglaia?

Rudiments, Rudiments, and Rudimen… ‘Thinketh one made them i’ the fit… ‘Thinketh one made them with the ’… But not the answers; 'doubteth the… Only Guides, Helps, Analyses, su…

Senex. Saye, cushat, callynge fro… What ayles thee soe to pyne? Thy carefulle heart shall cease to… When dayes be fyne And greene thynges twyne:

Behold! I am not one that goes to… Professors. The elementary laws never apologis… I find letters from the Dean drop… signed by the Dean’s name—

Adown the torturing mile of street I mark him come and go, Thread in and out with tireless fe… The crossings to and fro; A soul that treads without retreat

O Mary Leslie, blithe and shrill The bugles blew for Spain: And you below the Castle Hill Stood in the crowd your lane. Then hearts were wild to watch us…