They heard his voice, and, trembling at the sound,
    The half-breech’d legions swarm’d like moths around;
    But, ah! the half-breech’d legions, call’d in vain,
    Dismay’d and useless, fill’d the cumber’d plain;
    And while for servile aid the Doctor calls,
    [41]By P——­t subverted, prone to earth he sprawls.
    [42]E’en then were heard, so Brazenose students sing,
    The grass-plot chains in boding notes to ring;
    E’en then we mark’d, where, gleaming through the night,
    Aerial crosses shed a lurid light. 
    Those wrestlers, too, whom naked we behold
    Through many a summer’s night and winter’s cold,
    Now changed appear’d, his pristine languor fled,
    Expiring Abel raised his sinking head,
    While with fix’d eyes his murderer seemed to stand,
    The bone half dropping from his nerveless hand. 
    So, when of old, as Latian records tell,
    At Pompey’s base the laurel’d despot fell,
    Reviving freedom mock’d her sinking foe,
    And demons shriek’d as Brutus dealt the blow. 
    His trencher-bonnet tumbling from his crown,
    Subdued by Bernard, sunk the Doctor down;
    But yet, though breathless on the hostile plain,
    The whip he could not seize he snapt in twain—­
    “Where now, base themester,”—­P——­t exulting said,
    And waved the rattling fragments o’er his head—­
    “Where now thy threats?  Yet learn from me to know
    How glorious ’tis to spare a fallen foe. 
    Uncudgel’d, rise—­yet hear my high command—­
    [43]Hence to thy room! or dread thy conqueror’s hand.”
    [44]His hair all gravel, and all green his clothes,
    In doleful dumps the downcast Doctor rose,
    Then slunk unpitied from the hated plain,
    And inly groaning sought his couch again;
    Yet, as he went, he backward cast his view,
    And bade his ancient power a last adieu. 
    So, when some sturdy swain through miry roads
    A grunting porker to the market goads,
    With twisted neck, splash’d hide, and progress slow,
    Oft backward looks the swine, and half disdains to go. 
    “Ah me! how fallen,” with choaking sobs he said,
    And sunk exhausted on his welcome bed;
    “Ere yet my shame, wide-circling through the town,
    Spreads from the strong contagion of the gown,
    Oh! be it mine, unknowing and unknown,
    [45]With deans deceased, to sleep beneath the stone.” 
    As tearful thus, and half convulsed with spite,
    He lengthen’d out with plaints the livelong night,
    At that still hour of night, when dreams are oft’nest true,
    A well-known spectre rose before his view,
    As in some lake, when hush’d in every breeze,
    The bending ape his form reflected sees,[46]
    Such and so like the Doctor’s angel shone,
    And by his gait the guardian sprite was known,
    Benignly bending o’er