no degree, he began to make
experiments in poetry. In 1739 and 1740 he travelled in
Europe, and in 1742 he had established himself at Peterhouse,
Cambridge, without University position or recognition of any
kind. Here he plunged into the study of classical literature,
and began to work on the "Elegy," which was published in 1751.
He was a shy, sensitive man of very wide learning. Couched in
graceful language, the letters are typical of the best in the
best age of letter-writing, and not only are they fascinating
for the tender and affectionate nature they reveal, but also
for the gleam of real humour which Walpole declared was the
poet's most natural vein. He died on July 30, 1771.

_I.--The Student's Freedom_

TO RICHARD WEST

Peterhouse, _December, 1736._ After this term I shall have nothing more
of college impertinences to undergo. I have endured lectures daily and
hourly since I came last, supported by the hopes of being shortly at
liberty to give myself up to my friends and classical companions, who,
poor souls, though I see them fallen into great contempt with most
people here, yet I cannot help sticking to them.

Indeed, what can I do else? Must I plunge into metaphysics? Alas! I
cannot see in the dark. Nature has not furnished me with the optics of a
cat. Must I pore upon mathematics? Alas! I cannot see in too much light.
I am no eagle. It is very possible that two and two make four, but I
would not give four farthings to demonstrate this ever so clearly; and
if these be the profits of life, give me the amusements of it. The
people I behold all around me, it seems, know all this, and more, and
yet I do not know one of them who inspires me with any ambition of being
like him. Surely it was of this place, now Cambridge, but formerly known
by the name of Babylon, that the prophet spoke when he said, "The wild
beasts of the desert shall dwell there, and their houses shall be full
of doleful creatures, and owls shall build there and satyrs shall dance
there." You see, here is a pretty collection of desolate animals, which
is verified in this town to a tittle.

TO HORACE WALPOLE

_Burnham, September, 1737._ I have at the distance of half a mile
through a green lane a forest all my own, for I spy no human thing in it
but myself. It is a little chaos of mountains and precipices; mountains,
it is true, that do not ascend much above the clouds, nor are t