Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, CARMEN LAETUM; RECITED ... ALUMNI OF MIDDLEBURY COLLEGE, by JOHN GODFREY SAXE


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

CARMEN LAETUM; RECITED ... ALUMNI OF MIDDLEBURY COLLEGE, by                     Poet's Biography
First Line: A right loving welcome, my true-hearted friends
Last Line: May esto perpetua then be the toast!
Subject(s): Middlebury College; Reunions


A RIGHT loving welcome, my true hearted Brothers,
Who have come out to visit the kindest of mothers;
You may think as you will, but there is n't a doubt
Alma Mater rejoices, and knows you are out!
Rejoices to see you in gratitude here,
Returning to honor her fiftieth year.
And while the good lady is so overcome
With maternal emotion, she's stricken quite dumb
(A thing, I must own, that's enough to perplex
A shallow observer, who thinks that the sex,
Whatever may be their internal revealings,
Can never be pained with unspeakable feelings),
Indulge me, dear Brothers, nor think me ill-bred,
If I venture a moment to speak in her stead.
I, who, though the humblest and home-liest one,
Feel the natural pride of a dutiful son,
And esteem it to-day the profoundest of joys,
That, not less than yourselves, I am one of the boys!

First as to her health, which, I'm sorry to say,
Has been better, no doubt, than she finds it to-day;
Yet when you reflect she's been some what neglected,
She's really as well as could well be ex pected;
And, spite of ill-treatment and premature fears,
Is a hearty old lady, for one of her years.
Indeed, I must tell you a bit of a tale,
To show you she's feeling remarkably hale;
How she turned up her nose, but a short time ago,
At a rather good-looking importunate beau,
And how she refused, with a princesslike carriage
"A very respectable offer of marriage."

You see, my dear Brothers, a neighboring College
Who values himself on the depth of his knowledge,
With a prayer for her love, and an eye to her land,
Walked up to the lady and offered his hand.
For a minute or so she was all in a flutter,
And had not a word she could audibly utter;
For she felt in her bosom, beyond all concealing,
A kind of a -- sort of a -- widow-like feeling!
But recovering soon from the delicate shock,
She held up her head like an old-fashioned clock,
And, with proper composure, went on and defined,
In suitable phrases, the state of her mind;
Said she would n't mind changing her single condition
Could she fairly expect to improve her position;
And thus, by some words of equivocal scope,
Gave her lover decided "permission to hope."
It were idle to talk of the billing and cooing
The amorous gentleman used in his wooing;
Or how she replied to his pressing advances,
His oscular touches and ocular glances:
'T is enough that his courtship, by all that is known,
Was quite the old story, and much like your own!

Thus the matter went on, till the lady found out,
One very fine day, what the rogue was about, --
That all that he wanted was merely that power
By marital license to pocket her dower,
And then to discard her in sorrow and shame,
Bereaved of her home and her name and her fame.
In deep indignation she turned on her heel,
With such withering scorn as a lady might feel
For a knave, who, in stealing her miniature case,
Should take the gold setting, and leave her the face!
But soon growing calm as the breast of the deep,
When the breezes are hushed that the waters may sleep,
She sat in her chair, like a dignified elf,
And thus, while I listened, she talked to herself: --
"Nay, 't was idle to think of so foolish a plan
As a match with this pert University-man,
For I have n't a chick but would redden with shame
At the very idea of my losing my name;
And would feel that no sorrow so heavy could come
To his mother as losing her excellent home.
'T is true I am weak, but my children are strong,
And won't see me suffer privation or wrong;
So, away with the dream of connubial joys,
I'll stick to the homestead, and look to the boys!"

How joyous, my friends, is the cordial greeting
Which gladdens the heart at a family meeting;
When brothers assemble at Friendship's old shrine
To look at the present, and talk of "Lang Syne"!
Ah! well I remember the halcyon years,
Too earnest for laughter, too pleasant for tears,
When life was a boon in yon classical court,
Though lessons were long, and though commons were short!
Ah! well I remember those excellent men,
Professors and tutors, who reigned o'er us then;
Who guided our feet over Science's bogs,
And led us quite safe through Philosophy's fogs.
Ah! well I remember the President's face,
As he sat at the lecture with dignified grace,
And neatly unfolded the mystical themes
Of various deep metaphysical schemes, --
How he brightened the path of his studious flock,
As he gave them a key to that wonderful Locke
How he taught us to feel it was fatal indeed
With too much reliance to lean upon Reid;
That Stewart was sounder, but wrong at the last,
From following his master a little too fast, --
Then closed the discourse in a scholarly tone,
With a clear and intelligent creed of his own.
That the man had his faults it were safe to infer, --
Though I really don't recollect what they were, --
I barely remember this one little truth,
When his case was discussed by the critical youth,
The Seniors and Freshmen were sure to divide,
And the former were all on the President's side!

And well I remember another, whose praise
Were a suitable theme for more elegant lays;
But even in numbers ungainly and rough,
I must mention the name of our glorious HOUGH!
Who does not remember? for who can forget,
Till Memory's star shall forever have set,
How he sat in his place unaffected and bold,
And taught us more truths than the lesson had told?
Gave a lift to "Old NOL," for the love of the right,
And a slap at the Stuarts, with cordial spite;
And, quite in the teeth of conventional rules,
Hurled his adjectives down upon tyrants and fools?
But, chief, he excelled in his proper vocation
Of giving the classics a classic translation;
In Latin and Greek he was almost oracular,
And, what's more to his praise, understood the vernacular.
Oh, 't was pleasant to hear him make English of Greek,
Till you felt that no tongue was inherently weak;
While Horace in Latin seemed quite understated,
And rejoiced like old Enoch in being translated!

And others there were -- but the hour would fail,
To bring them all up in historic detail;
And yet I would give, ere the moment has fled,
A sigh for the absent, a tear for the dead.
There's not one of them all, where'er he may rove,
In the shadows of earth, or the glories above,
In the home of his birth, or in lands far away,
But comes back to be kindly remembered to-day!

One little word more, and my duty is done; --
A health to our Mother, from each mother's son!
Unfading in beauty, increasing i strength,
May she flourish in health through the century's length;
And next when her children come round her to boast,
May Esto perpetua then be the toast!





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