Posted by P.B.

Oxford - England

Magdalen College (pronounced"mawdlin") is one of the constituent college of the University of Oxford. Magdalen College was founded in 1458 by William Waynflete, Bishop of Winchester. The founder's statutes included provision for a choral foundation of men and boys (a tradition that has continued to the present day) and made reference to the pronunciation of the name of the College in English. Regarded by some as one of the most beautiful of theOxford and Cambridge colleges,  Magdalen is also one of the most visited. It stands next to theRiver Cherwell and has within its grounds a deer park and Addison's Walk. The large, square Magdalen Tower is a famous Oxford landmark, and it is a tradition since the days of Henry VII that the college choir sings from the top of it at 6 a.m. on May Morning. Oscar Wilde was one of the most famous alumni of Magdalen College


Oscar Wilde portrait
Oscar Fingal O'Flahertie Wills Wilde is one of the most iconic figures from late Victorian society.
Oscar Wilde was born on 16th October 1854. in Dublin, Ireland. His parents were well known and attracted their fare share of gossip for their extravangant lifestyles. Oscar Wilde proved to be a student of great talent. He was awarded a scholarship to Trinity College Dublin. Here he studied the classics, in particular developing an interest in the Greek philosophers and the Hellenistic view of life. From Trinity college he won a scholarship to Magdalen College Oxford University. He enjoyed his time in Oxford and was able to develop his poetic sensibilities and love of literature.

Legends persist that his behaviour cost him a dunking in theRiver Cherwell (the river that cross the college) in addition to having his rooms (which still survive as student accommodation at his old college) vandalized, but the cult spread among certain segments of society to such an extent that languishing attitudes, "too-too" costumes and aestheticism generally became a recognised pose.He also became more conscious of his bisexual nature. For his increasing “femine” dress he often received stick from more “traditional” Oxford students. He was a brilliant scholar but also increasingly rebellious. In one academic year he got rusticated for turning up to College 3 weeks after the start of term. Thus after a while he lost interest in pursuing an academic career in Oxford and moved to London.
Wilde died of cerebral meningitis on 30 November 1900.

The tomb of Oscar Wilde in Pére Lachaise cemetery - Paris


The little white clouds are racing over the sky
And the fields are strewn with the gold of the flowers of March,
The daffodil breaks under foot, and the tasselled larch
Sways and swing as the thrush goes hurrying by.

A delicate odour is borne on the wings of the morning breeze,
The odour of leaves and of grass, and of newly upturned earth,
The birds are singing for joy of the Spring's glad birth,
Hopping from branch to branch on the rocking trees.

And all the woods are alive with the murmur and sound of Spring,
And the rose-bud breaks into pik on the climbing briar,
And the crocus-bed is a quivering moon of fire
Girdled round with the belt of an amethyst ring.

And the plane to the pine-tree is whispering some tale of love
Till it rustles with laughter and tosses its mantle of green,
And the gloom of the wych-elm's hollow is lit with the iris sheen
Of the burnished rainbow throat and the silver breast of a dove.

See! the lark starts up from his bed in the meadow there,
Breaking the grossamer threads and the nets of dew,
And flashing adown the river, a flame of blue!
The kingfisher flies like an arrow, and wounds the air.

And the sense of my life is sweet! though I know that the end is nigh:
For the ruin and rain of winter will shortly come,
The lily will lose its gold, anche the chestnut bloom
In billows of red and white on the grass will lie.

And even the light of the sun will fade at the last,
And the leaves will fall, and the birds will hasten away,
And I will be left in the snow of a flowerless day
To think on the glory of Spring, and the joys of a a youth long past.

Yet be silent, my heart! do not count it a profitless thing
To have seen the splendour of sun, and of grass, and of flower!
To have lived and loved! for I hold that to love for an hour
Is better for man and for woman than cycles of blossoming Spring.

by Oscar Wilde


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