"Tell me, Muse, what colour floateth round
the River's ancient head:
Is it white and black, or white and blue, is it
scarlet, blue, or red?"
Thus I prayed, and Clio answered, "Why, I thought
the whole world knew
That the red of Margareta had deposed the flag
of blue!
Babes unborn shall sing in rapture how, desiring
Close [1] affinity,
Goldie, rowing nearly fifty, overlapped, and bumped
First Trinity.
I myself was at the Willows, and beheld the victory won;
Saw the victor's final effort, and the deed of daring done.
I myself took off my bonnet, and forgetful of my years,
Patting Goldie on the shoulder, gave him three
times thrice three cheers.
Ne'er, oh! ne'er, shall be forgotten the excitement
of that night;
Aged Dons, deem'd stony-hearted, wept with
rapture at the sight:
E'en the Master of a College, as he saw them overlap,
Shouted 'Well rowed, Lady Margaret,' and took
off his College cap;
And a Doctor of Divinity, in his Academic garb,
Sang a solemn song of triumph, as he lashed his
gallant barb;
Strong men swooned, and small boys whistled,
sympathetic hounds did yell