gloomy his own view and that of his contemporaries
was then as to the present, my father clearly saw the
"Day-beam, New-risen o'er awaken'd Albion." Indeed
now, as always, he was one of those "on the look-out
for every new idea, and for every old idea with a
new application, which may tend to meet the growing
requirements of society"; one of those who are "like
men standing on a watch-tower, to whom others apply
and say, not 'What of the night?' but 'What of the
morning and of the coming day1Speech of the Duke of Argyll in the House of Lords, Aug. 13th, 1894.?'"

At the request of Aubrey de Vere, he consented
that the following denunciatory lines, written in his
undergraduate days, should be published among my
notes.

Lines on Cambridge of 1830.

Therefore your Halls, your ancient Colleges,
Your portals statued with old kings and queens,
Your gardens, myriad-volumed libraries,
Wax-lighted chapels, and rich carven screens,
Your doctors, and your proctors, and your deans,
Shall not avail you, when the Day-beam sports
New-risen o'er awaken'd Albion. No!
Nor yet your solemn organ-pipes that blow
Melodious thunders thro' your vacant courts
At noon and eve, because your manner sorts
Not with this age wherefrom ye stand apart,
Because the lips of little children preach
Against you, you that do profess to teach
And teach us nothing, feeding not the heart.

In after years a great change came over Cambridge,

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