There is a calm
melancholy in the close of his present ode which is very pathetic, and
almost Shakspearian:--
'Farewell you gay and happy throng!
Farewell my muse! farewell my song!
Farewell Salt-hill! farewell brave captain.'
Yet, may it be long before he goes hence and is no more seen! May he
limp, like his rhymes, for at least a dozen years; for National schools
have utterly annihilated our hopes of a successor!"
"I will not attempt to reason with you," said the inquirer, "about
the pleasures of Montem;--but to an ~104~~ Etonian it is enough that it
brings pure and ennobling recollections--calls up associations of hope
and happiness--and makes even the wise feel that there is something
better than wisdom, and the great that there is something nobler than
greatness. And then the faces that come about us at such a time, with
their tales of old friendships or generous rivalries. I have seen to-day
fifty fellows of whom I remember only the nick-names;--they are now
degenerated into scheming M.P.'s, or clever lawyers, or portly doctors;
-but at Montera they leave the plodding world of reality for one day,
and regain the dignities of sixth-form Etonians." {4}
4 To enumerate all the distinguished persons educated at
Eton would be no easy task; many of the greatest ornaments
of our country have laid the foundation of all their
literary and scientific wealth within the towers of this
venerable edifice.
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