AD AMICUM DEAR Acton, next Wednesday, at dinner, I cannot but honestly think You'll find that my claret is thinner Than that you're accustomed to drink. Twelve shillings a dozen it cost me That year I remember it well— When Oxford, that loved me yet lost me, Created you Hon. D.C.L. The cheers by your presence excited That filled the Sheldonian dome, The Vatican vastly delighted, And sensibly gratified Rome. And so, for the savour historic That clings to my modest Bordeaux, You'll pardon its want of caloric, And vote it the choicest of Clos. AD ARISTIUM FUSCUM INTEGER vitæ scelerisque purus Non eget Mauris jaculis neque arcu Nec venenatis gravida sagittis, Fusce, pharetra, Sive per Syrtes iter æstuosas Sive facturus per inhospitalem Caucasum vel quæ loca fabulosus Lambit Hydaspes. Namque me silva lupus in Sabina, Dum meam canto Lalagen et ultra AD ARISTIDEN OBFUSCATUM IF clear be your conscience, my Morley, No bullet-proof coat you'll require, Though often dispirited sorely By Erin's Invincible ire : Nay further, discarding coercion, You may with impunity fare On a midsummer moonlight excursion Unarmed through the County of Clare. Look at me. As the breeze of the zephyr I strolled forth of late to enjoy, A vicious and virulent heifer I was humming the 'Dear Irish Boy' |