The Bromsgrovian.
109
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The right one as well as the left, Like a slaughter-house, so to speak, Garnished with woolly deaths And many shipwrecks of cows. I, therefore, in a Cissian strain lament, And with the rapid, Loud, linen-tattering thumps upon my chest Resounds in concert The battering of my unlucky head. | |
| Eriphyla (within). | Oh, I am smitten with a hatchet's jaw! In deed, I mean, and not in word alone. |
| Cho. | Methinks I heard a sound within the house Unlike the accent of festivity. |
| Erip. | He cracks my skull, not in a friendly way: It seems he purposes to kill me dead. |
| Cho. | I would not be considered rash, but yet I doubt if all is well within the house. |
| Erip. | Oh, oh, another blow! this makes the third: He stabs my heart, a harsh unkindly act. |
| Cho. | Indeed, if that be so, ill-fated one, I fear we scarce can hope thou wilt survive. |
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*****
A. E. H.
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Oxford Letter.
Dear Sir,
Oxford, May 21st, 1883.
Someone has said that during the (so-called!) Summer Term, we in Oxford cannot be expected to do any work, because our attention is exclusively claimed by "Eights and cousins;" when, therefore, in addition to these distractions, we have the further excitement of a Royal visit, surely a college tutor's heart must be of adamant if he look not with lenient eye on lectures cut and essays unwritten! Yet experience tells us that even now the "gens ferrea" has not entirely left our earth.
