Classic Poem

I HAVE a Friend who loveth me,
And sendeth me Ale of Trinitie:
A very good fellow is my true friend,
With talents and virtues without end;
Filled with Learning's very best seed;
Ready to think (or drink, at need);
In short, a very good fellow indeed:
But the best of all is, as it seems to me,
ThaThe yieldeth the Ale of Trinitie.

Oh, Trinitie Ale is stout and good,
Whether in bottle it be or wood:
'Tis good at morning, 'tis good at night;
(Ye should drink whilst the liquor is bubbling bright:)
'Tis good for man, woman, and child,
Being neither too strong, nor yet too mild:
It strengthens the body; it strengthens the mind;
And hitteth the toper's taste refined.

Once, — once, I believed that the famous Cam
Was a riddle, a cheat, an enormous Flam,
Vamp'd up by tutors of Hall and College:
(Who've a great deal of learning and little knowledge;)
But now — I acknowledge, with tears of shame,
That the river it meriteth thrice its fame;
For, with it, — though seemingly poor and pale,
Men manufacture — The M IGHTY A LE !

Alma Mater! Thou mother kind,
Who trainest the youthful human mind
(By circles, and squares, and classic stories),
Until it arrives at Earth's high glories,
Who, — who, amongst all thy children, dare
With the bright Trinitie boys compare?
Mingling their ale with bookish learning,
They acquire by such means keen discerning,
And thus (in a circle arguing) steer
Between the extremes of books and beer.
Other men, — somehow or other, — pine
Whether they trust to Greek or wine.

Oh, in truth, it gladdens the heart to see
What may spring from the Ale of Trinitie, —
A scholar — a fellow — a rector blithe,
(Fit to take any amount of tithe) —
Perhaps a bishop — perhaps, by grace,
One may mount to the Archiepiscopal place,
And wield the crosier, an awful thing,
The envy of all, and — the parsons' King!
O Jove! who would struggle with Learning pale,
That could beat down the world by the strength of Ale!
For me , — I avow, could my thoughtless prime
Come back with the wisdom of mournful time,
I 'd labour — I 'd toil — by night and day,
(Mixing liquor and books away,)
Till I conquer'd that high and proud degree,
M.A. (Master of Ale) of Trinitie.

Ale! Ale, — if properly understood,
Promoteth a brotherly neighbourhood.
Now, what can be better, on winter night
When the faggot is blazing bright,
And your friend is perplex'd how to kill the time.
With " Useful Knowledge, " or idle rhyme,
To step in and say, — " Neighbour, I think
Your Trinitie Ale must be fit to drink?
Let's try it. " He answers, " With all my soul: "
And in the capacious tumblers roll:
Hark, — to the music rich and rare!
Note, — how it stealeth the sting from Care!
Behold, — both Pride and Prudery bend,
And each man groweth a warmer friend.
I repeat it, that Ale, — if understood,
Promoteth a brotherly neighbourhood.
Why, sometime since, we were enemies all
In our small village, — the short, the tall;
The old, the young; the dull, the bright;
Churchman, Simeonite, Puseyite:
But now , we are knit into one firm band,
By Sir John Barleycorn's high command:
No more envy, no more strife,
But tipplers honest and friends for life.

It would do good both to your head and heart,
Could you see how each playeth his social part,
In a bumper — a song — or a round of wit.
Jolly philosophers! here we sit, —
Ten reformed tea-totallers, all
Pull'd up before Chief-Magistrate Hall,
Merely for moistening a dry lip;
And again before Justice Broderip;
Ten bold widowers, each forlorn
Until he had been at Highgate sworn;
Ten thick squires, with brains made clear
By the irresistible strength of beer;
Ten plurality Vicars, (sent
By Heaven, — to take commutation rent);
Ten prebendaries; Canons ten;
(All very fat virtuous men):
And, last of us, I — who offer to thee
(I, — scribe of this choice society),
With grateful glee,
Postage free,
These rhymes for thy dozens of Trinitie.