"Again to church the learned tribe repair,
Where syllogisms battle in the air,
And then the elder youth their second laurels wear.
Hail! Happy laurels! who our hopes inspire,
And set our ardent wishes all on fire.
By you the pulpit and the bar will shine
In future annals; while the ravish'd nine
Will in your bosom breathe cælestial flames,
And stamp _Eternity_ upon your names.
Accept my infant muse, whose feeble wings
Can scarce sustain her flight, while you she sings.
With candour view my rude unfinish'd praise
And see my _Ivy_ twist around your _bayes_.
So _Phidias_ by immortal _Jove_ inspir'd,
His statue carv'd, by all mankind admir'd.
Nor thus content, by his approving nod,
He cut himself upon the shining god.
That shaded by the umbrage of his name,
Eternal honours might attend his fame."

In his almanacs, Nathaniel Ames was wont to insert, opposite the
days of Commencement week, remarks which he deemed appropriate to
that period. His notes for the year 1764 were these:--

"Much talk and nothing said."

"The loquacious more talkative than ever, and fine Harangues
preparing."