I was the Dreamer, they the Dream; I roamed 30
  Delighted through the motley spectacle;
  Gowns, grave, or gaudy, doctors, students, streets,
  Courts, cloisters, flocks of churches, gateways, towers: 
  Migration strange for a stripling of the hills,
  A northern villager. 
                         As if the change 35
  Had waited on some Fairy’s wand, at once
  Behold me rich in monies, and attired
  In splendid garb, with hose of silk, and hair
  Powdered like rimy trees, when frost is keen. 
  My lordly dressing-gown, I pass it by, 40
  With other signs of manhood that supplied
  The lack of beard.—­The weeks went roundly on,
  With invitations, suppers, wine and fruit,
  Smooth housekeeping within, and all without
  Liberal, and suiting gentleman’s array. 45

    The Evangelist St. John my patron was: 
  Three Gothic courts are his, and in the first
  Was my abiding-place, a nook obscure; [C]
  Right underneath, the College kitchens made
  A humming sound, less tuneable than bees, 50
  But hardly less industrious; with shrill notes
  Of sharp command and scolding intermixed. 
  Near me hung Trinity’s loquacious clock,
  Who never let the quarters, night or day,
  Slip by him unproclaimed, and told the hours 55
  Twice over with a male and female voice. 
  Her pealing organ was my neighbour too;
  And from my pillow, looking forth by light
  Of moon or favouring stars, I could behold
  The antechapel where the statue stood 60
  Of Newton with his prism and silent face,
  The marble index of a mind for ever
  Voyaging through strange seas of Thought, alone.

    Of College labours, of the Lecturer’s room
  All studded round, as thick as chairs could stand, 65
  With loyal students faithful to their books,
  Half-and-half idlers, hardy recusants,
  And honest dunces—­of important days,
  Examinations, when the man was weighed
  As in a balance! of excessive hopes, 70
  Tremblings withal and commendable fears,
  Small jealousies, and triumphs good or bad,
  Let others that know more speak as they know. 
  Such glory was but little sought by me,
  And little won.  Yet from the first crude days 75
  Of settling time in this untried abode,
  I was disturbed at times by prudent thoughts,
  Wishing to hope without a hope, some fears
  About my future worldly maintenance,
  And, more than all, a strangeness in the mind, 80
  A feeling that I was not for that hour,
  Nor for that place.  But wherefore be cast down? 
  For (not to speak of Reason and her pure