The New Belfry of Christ Church, Oxford

'If thou wouldst view the Belfry aright,Go visit it at the mirk midnight—For the least hint of open dayScares the beholder quite away.

When wall and window are black as pitch,And there's no deciding which is which;When the dark Hall's uncertain roofIn horror seems to stand aloof;When corner and corner, alternately,Is wrought to an odious symmetry;When distant Thames is heard to sighAnd shudder as he hurries by;Then go, if it be worth the while,Then view the Belfry's monstrous pile,And, home returning, soothly swear"'Tis more than Job himself could bear!"'

'Ever charming, ever new,When will the Belfry tire the view?'

'Is it the glow of conscious pride—Of pure ambition gratified—That seeks to read in other eyeSomething of its own ecstasy?Or wrath, that worldlings should make funOf anything 'the House' has done?Or puzzlement, that seeks in vainThe rigid mystery to explain?Or is it shame that, knowing notHow to defend or cloak the blot—

The foulest blot on fairest faceThat ever marred a noble place—Burns with the pangs it will not own,Pangs felt by loyal sons alone?'

Wooden buildings in the midst of stone-work are barbarous;Plain rectangular forms in the midst of arches and decorations are barbarous;Ergo, The whole thing is ridiculous and revolting.

The Governing Body would conceal this appalling structure, if they could;The Governing Body would conceal the feelings of chagrin with which they now regard it, if they could;Ergo, ....... (MS. unfinished.)

To restore the character of Ch. Ch., a tower must be built;To build a tower, ten thousand pounds must be raised;Ergo, No time must be lost.

Rafters, and planks, and such small deer,Shall be Tom's food for many a year.

Five fathom square the Belfry frowns;All its sides of timber made;Painted all in greys and browns;Nothing of it that will fade.Christ Church may admire the change—Oxford thinks it sad and strange.Beauty's dead! Let's ring her knell.Hark! now I hear them—ding-dong, bell.

Look on the Quadrangle of Christ Church, squarely, for is it not a Square?And a Square recalleth a Cube; and a Cube recalleth the Belfry;

And the Belfry recalleth a Die, shaken by the hand of the gambler;Yet, once thrown, it may not be recalled, being, so to speak, irrevocable.There it shall endure for ages, treading hard on the heels of the Sublime—For it is but a step, saith the wise man, from the Sublime unto the Ridiculous:And the Simple dwelleth midway between, and shareth the qualities of either.'