With ftill remark the pond'ring Hermit view'd, In one fo rich, a life fo poor and rude;
And why should such, within himself he cry'd,
Lock the loft wealth a thousand want befide?
But what new marks of wonder foon took place
In ev'ry fettling feature of his face;
When from his veft the young companion bore
That cup, the gen'rous landlord own'd before,
And paid, profufely, with the precious bowl,
The ftinted kindness of his churlish foul.
But now the clouds in airy tumult fly,
The fun emerging opes an azure sky;
A fresher green the smelling leaves display,
And, glitt'ring as they tremble, chear the day:
The weather courts them from the poor retreat,
And the glad master bolts the wary gate.
While hence they walk, the pilgrim's bofom wrought
With all the travail of uncertain thought;
His partner's acts without their cause appear;
'Twas there a vice, and feem'd a madneis here:
Detefting that, and pitying this, he goes,
Loft and confounded with the various shows.
Now night's dim fhades again involve the sky,
Again the wand'rers want a place to lie,
Again they fearch, and find a lodging nigh.
The foil improv'd around, the manfion neat,
And neither poorly low, nor idly great:
It seem'd to speak its mafter's turn of mind,
Content, and, not for praife, but virtue, kind.
Hither the walkers turn, with weary feet, Then blefs the manfion, and the mafter greet:
eir greeting fair, beftow'd with modeft guife, Tourteous mafter hears, and thus replies:
Without a vain, without a grudging heart, To him who gives us all, I yield a part; From him you come, for him accept it here, A frank and fober, more than coftly cheer. He fpoke, and bid the welcome table spread, Then talk'd of virtue till the time of bed, When the grave houshold round his hall repair, Warn'd by a bell, and close the hours with pray’r. At length the world, renew'd by calm repose, Was ftrong for toil, the dappled morn arofe; Before the pilgrims part, the younger crept Near the clos'd cradle, where an infant flept, And writh'd his neck; the landlord's little pride, O ftrange return! grew black, and gasp'd, and dy’d. Horror of horrors! what! his only fon!
How look'd our hermit when the fact was done;
Not hell, tho' hell's black jaws in funder part,
And breathe blue fire, could more affault his heart.
Confus'd, and ftruck with filence at the deed,
He flies, but, trembling, fails to fly with speed.
His fteps the youth pursues: the country lay
Perplex'd with roads, a fervant fhow'd the way;
A river crofs'd the path; the paffage o'er
Was nice to find; the fervant rode before;
Long arms of oaks an open bridge supply'd,
And deep the waves beneath the bending glide.
The youth, who feem'd to watch a time to fin,
Approach'd the carelefs guide, and thrust him in ;
Plunging, he falls, and, rifing, lifts his head,
Then, flashing, turns, and finks among the dead.
Wild, fparkling rage, inflames the father's eyes,
He bursts the bands of fear, and madly cries,
Detefted wretch. -But fcarce his fpeech began,
When the strange partner feem'd no longer man :
His youthful face grew more ferenely fweet;
His robe turn'd white, and flow'd upon his feet;
Fair rounds of radiant points inveft his hair;
Celeftial odours breathe thro' purpled air;
And wings, whofe colours glitter'd on the day,
Wide at his back the gradual plumes display.
The form etherial burfts upon his fight,
And moves in all the majefty of light.
Tho' loud, at first, the pilgrim's paffion grew,
Sudden he gaz'd, and wist not what to do;
Surprize in fecret chains his words fufpends,
And in a calm his fettling temper ends.
But filence here the beauteous angel broke,
(The voice of mufic ravifh'd as he spoke.)
Thy pray'r, thy praife, thy life, to vice unknown,
In fweet memorial rife before the throne:
Thefe charms fuccefs in our bright region find,
And force an Angel down, to calm thy mind!
For this commiffion'd, I forfook the sky;
Nay, ceafe to kneelthy fellow-fervant I.
Then know the truth of government divine,
And let thefe fcruples be no longer thine.
C 6
The maker juftly claims that world he made;
In this the right of providence is laid;
Its facred majefty thro' all depends
On ufing fecond means to work his ends:
'Tis thus, withdrawn in ftate from human eye,
The Pow'r exerts his Attributes on high,
Your actions uses, nor controuls your will,
And bids the doubting fons of men be still.
What ftrange events can strike with more furprize, Than those which lately ftruck thy wond'ring eyes? Yet, taught by these, confess th' Almighty just, And, where you can't unriddle, learn to truft!
The great, vain man, who far'd on coftly food, Whofe life was too luxurious to be good; Who made his ivory ftands with goblets shine, And forc'd his guests to morning draughts of wine, Has, with the cup, the graceless custom loft; And ftill he welcomes, but with less of cost. The mean, fufpicious wretch, whose bolted door Ne'er mov'd in duty to the wand'ring poor; With him I left the cup, to teach his mind, That heav'n can blefs, if mortals will be kind. Confcious of wanting worth, he views the bowl, And feels compaffion touch his grateful foul. Thus artifts melt the fullen oar of lead, With heaping coals of fire upon its head; In the kind warmth the metal learns to glow, And, loofe from drofs, the filver runs below.
Long had our pious friend in virtue trod, But now the child half-wean'd his heart from God;
(Child of his age) for him he liv'd in pain,
And meafur'd back his fteps to earth again.
To what exceffes had his dotage run?
But God, to fave the father, took the son.
To all but thee, in fits he feem'd to go,
(And 'twas my miniftry to deal the blow)
poor fond parent, humbled in the duft,
Now owns, in tears, the punishment was juft.
But now had all his fortune felt a wreck,
Had that falfe fervant fped in fafety back?
This night his treafur'd heaps he meant to steal;
And what a fund of charity would fail!
Thus heav'n inftructs thy mind: this trial o'er, Depart in peace, refign, and fin no more.
On founding pinions here the youth withdrew, The fage ftood wond'ring as the feraph flew. Thus look'd Elisha, when, to mount on high, His mafter took the chariot of the sky; The fiery pomp afcending, left the view; The prophet gaz'd, and wish'd to follow too. The bending hermit here a pray'r begun, "Lord! as in Heav'n, on earth thy will be done." Then, gladly turning, fought his ancient place, And pafs'd a life of piety and peace.
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