REMINISCENCES OF OXFORD.
PROLOGUE.
ONCE more this dear old city I behold,
With spires and towers rising grand and bold:
Two years ago, (how long the time has been!)
Since I thy grand and grey-grown walls have seen.
Time has, I see, reclad each lichened wall,
And flung a darker robe on each and all,
Thou hast a grace so rich, and air antique,—
Of which I often think, and love to speak!—
That ever seems to point with conscious pride,
To thy lov'd name and fame!—so great and wide.
Fairest of all cities'—my love and joy.—
Others, to me, are tainted with alloy!
With spires and towers rising grand and bold:
Two years ago, (how long the time has been!)
Since I thy grand and grey-grown walls have seen.
Time has, I see, reclad each lichened wall,
And flung a darker robe on each and all,
Thou hast a grace so rich, and air antique,—
Of which I often think, and love to speak!—
That ever seems to point with conscious pride,
To thy lov'd name and fame!—so great and wide.
Fairest of all cities'—my love and joy.—
Others, to me, are tainted with alloy!
