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Vol 3 No 1 |
9 October, 2007 |
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Perchance to Dream
by Walter H. Kemp
A Possible Excuse for Oxford’s Loss, 2007
With apologies to Shakespeare, George Cooper (who could do this better) and everyone present.
“Row the race, I pray you, skimming upon the Thames,
That through its torrent, tempest, whirlwind of passion
You must acquire a temperance that gives it smoothness.
Yet if too tame, ‘twill offend me to the soul:
So let your own discretion be your tutor.”
So spake the captain of the Oxford Blue
The sinews of his eightsmen to renew;
A crew so strong in arm, so “fortinbras”,
On whom from river shore gazed many a lass
With eyes of deep devotion like Cordelia
Or strewing orisons like fair Ophelia.
But secretly their minds were sicklied o’er
By hauntings of a very palpable hit.
Late, late yestere’en the crew perchanced to dream.
A sculler steered across them in midstream:
A junior Cambridge sculler who did yearn
To win a Rosencrantz for Goldie’s stern.
Oxford smashed through him with a thousand natural shocks
That sculls are heir to, and did his quietus make.
But as the hapless craft went down the tide
The Oxford Captain filled with horror cried:
“I know that scull, that scull is Yorick’s scull!
Though quickly done (he scarcely felt the rub)
This clown has jinxed us with his clumsy tub.”
Was Oxford’s native blue resolution
Informed against? Their currents turned awry?
They made for Hammersmith with all their strength.
Ne’er guessing they would lose by a full length.
The longed-for bridge that gladdened Oxford eyes
Would soon become for them a Bridge of Sighs.
After the grunt and sweat of river strife
The College eightsman finds eternal life:
The undiscovered country from whose bourne
No light or dark blue oarsman doth return.
There, stands a plinth: ‘tis a memorial
To hardy sons of King's and Oriel.
Good-night, sweet plinth, and as we hie to rest,
We must admit that Cambridge was the best.
[delivered at the Halifax Boat Race Dinner during dessert 14 April, 2007]
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