He sums up his thoughts on Cambridge as follows:
Here sate in state, and fed with daily alms
Retainers won away from solid good;
And here was Labour, his own bondslave; Hope,
That never set the pains against the prize;
Idleness halting with his weary clog,
And poor misguided Shame, and witless Fear,
And simple Pleasure foraging for Death;
Honour misplaced, and Dignity astray;
Feuds, factions, flatteries, enmity and guile,
Murmuring submission, and bald government,
(The idol weak as the idolator),
And Decency and Custom starving Truth,
And blind Authority beating with his staff
The child that might have led him; Emptiness
Followed as of good omen, and meek Worth
Left to herself unheard of and unknown.
The Prelude (1850), Book III, Residence at Cambridge, lines 593-608