VIII.

  ’I, with two more to help me,
    ’Will face yon Graces Three;
  ’Will guard the Holy Tripod,
    ’And the M.A.  Degree. 
  ’We know that by obstruction
    ’Three may a thousand foil. 
  ’Now who will stand on either hand
    ‘To guard our Trojan soil?’

  IX.

  Then Parvue Mariensis,
    Of Bearded Jove the Priest,
  Spake out ’of Trojan warriors
    ’I am, perhaps, the least,
  ‘Yet will I stand at thy right hand.’ 
    Cried Pottius—­’I likewise
  ’At thy left side will stem the tide
    ’Of myriad flashing eyes.

  X.

  Meanwhile the Ladies’ Army,
    Right glorious to behold,
  Came clad in silks and satins bright,
    With seal-skins and with furs bedight,
  And gems and rings of gold. 
    Four hundred warriors shouted
  ‘Placet’ with fiendish glee,
    As that fair host with fairy feet,
    And smiles unutterably sweet,
    Came tripping each towards her seat,
  Where stood the dauntless Three.

  XI.

  The Three stood calm and silent,
    And frowned upon their foes,
  As a great shout of laughter
    From the four hundred rose: 
  And forth three chiefs came spurring
    Before their ladies gay,
  They faced the Three, they scowled and scoffed,
  Their gowns they donned, their caps they doffed,
    Then sped them to the fray.

  XII.

  Generalis Post-Magister,
    Lord of the Letter-bags;
  And Dilkius Radicalis,
    Who ne’er in combat lags;
  And Graecus Professorius,
    Beloved of fair Sabrine,
  From the grey Elms—­beneath whose shade
  A hospitable banquet laid,
  Had heroes e’en of cowards made.—­
    Brought ‘placets’ thirty-nine.

  XIII

  Stout Varius hurled ‘non placet’
    At Post-Magister’s head: 
  At the mere glance of Pottius
    Fierce Radicalis fled: 
  And Parvus Mariensis—­
    So they who heard him tell—­
  Uttered but one false quantity,
    And Professorius fell!

* * * *

  XIV.

  But fiercer still and fiercer
    Fresh foemen sought the fray. 
  And fainter still and fainter
    Stout Varius stood at bay. 
  ’O that this too, too solid
    Flesh would dissolve,’ he sighed;
  Yet still he stood undaunted,
    And still the foe defied.

  XV.

  Then Pollia Nunamensis,
    A student sweetly fair,
  Famed for her smiles and dimples
    Blue eyes and golden hair,
    Of Cupid’s arrows seized a pair,
        One in each eye she took: 
    Cupid’s best bow with all her might
    She pulled—­each arrow winged its flight,
    And straightway reason, sense, and sight
        Stout Varius forsook.

  XVI.