"Well," I thought, "this is odd."

But we came pretty quick To a sort of a quad That was all of red brick, And I says to the porter,--"R. Browning: free pa.s.ses; and kindly look slick."

But says he, dripping tears In his check handkerchief, "That symposium"s career"s Been regrettably brief, For it went all its pile upon crumpets and busted on gunpowder-leaf!"

Then we tucked up the sleeves Of our shirts (that were biled), Which the reader perceives That our feelings were riled, And we went for that man till his mother had doubted the traits of her child.

Which emotions like these Must be freely indulged By a party who sees A Society bulged On a reef the existence of which its prospectus had never divulged.

But I ask,--Do I dream?

_Has_ it gone up the spout?

Are things what they seem, Or is Sophists about?

Is our "to ti en einai" a failure, or is Robert Browning played out?

[1] The Oxford Browning Society expired at Keble the week before this was written.

L"ENVOI.

AS I LAYE A-DREAMYNGE.

After T. I.

As I laye a-dreamynge, a-dreamynge, a-dreamynge, O softlye moaned the dove to her mate within the tree, And meseemed unto my syghte Came rydynge many a knyghte All cased in armoure bryghte Cap-a-pie, As I laye a-dreamynge, a goodlye companye!

As I laye a-dreamynge, a-dreamynge, a-dreamynge, O sadlye mourned the dove, callynge long and callynge lowe, And meseemed of alle that hoste Notte a face but was the ghoste Of a friend that I hadde loste Long agoe.

As I laye a-dreamynge, oh, bysson teare to flowe!

As I laye a-dreamynge, a-dreamynge, a-dreamynge, O sadlye sobbed the dove as she seemed to despayre, And laste upon the tracke Came one I hayled as "Jacke!"

But he turned mee his backe With a stare: As I laye a-dreamynge, he lefte mee callynge there.

Stille I laye a-dreamynge, a-dreamynge, a-dreamynge, And gentler sobbed the dove as it eased her of her payne, And meseemed a voyce yt cry"d-- "They shall ryde, and they shall ryde "Tyll the truce of tyme and tyde Come agayne!

Alle for Eldorado, yette never maye attayne!"

Stille I laye a-dreamynge, a-dreamynge, a-dreamynge, And scarcelye moaned the dove, as her agonye was spente: "Shalle to-morrowe see them nygher To a golden walle or spyre?

You have better in yr fyre, Bee contente."

As I laye a-dreamynge, it seem"d smalle punyshment.

But I laye a-wakynge, and loe! the dawne was breakynge And rarely pyped a larke for the promyse of the daye: "Uppe and sette yr lance in reste!

Uppe and followe on the queste!

Leave the issue to be guessed At the endynge of the waye"--

As I laye a-wakynge, "twas soe she seemed to say-- "Whatte and if it alle be feynynge?

There be better thynges than gaynynge, Rycher pryzes than attaynynge."-- And "twas truthe she seemed to saye.

Whyles the dawne was breakynge, I rode upon my waye.

THE END