A SENIOR'S LAMENT.

AGED Bacchus, on Olympus,

Ruddy is the wine to-day, -

But Ma'am Fortune, prone to crimp us,

Has my sheep-skin ragged away.

Four short years my buxom ponies

I have ridden might and main;

For four years my bosom cronies,

Luckless wights! have done the same.

And to-night my many shingles,

Hung with medals round, not square,

Through the smoke are staring idly,

With a pessimistic air.

O'er a Venus that a Raphael

Would have shuddered much to see

Hangs a faded veil, - a token

Of suspended chivalry.

Empty coal-bin, empty pockets,

Empty siphons in a row;

O'er my life a dun cloud gathers, -

I can't see the New York show!

O, the German in Lyceum!

O, the German I've to learn;

Hedged my chances in this quarter,

Vain a Freshman's gas I burn.

Why this spirit meek and lowly,

Why, my soul, so much cast down?

Soon will end these warm Mass meetings;

Think upon the score with Brown.

Ancient College, Alma Mater,

Man would loaf to a degree;

As the `leventh hour matureth,

Soften down the Dean's decree.

We have erred, cut recitations,

Naughty children we have been,

But beware, how now are slighted

Many of thy moneyed men!

x.