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His raiment decent, his complexion fair,
Slow creaking turns the door with jealous care, And soft in graceful ringlets wav'd his hair. And half he welcomes in the shivering pair ; Then near approaching, father, hail! he cry'd, One frugal faggot lights the naked walls, And hail, my son, the reverend sire reply'd ; And nature's fervour through their limbs recalls. Words follow'd words, from question answer flow'd, Bread of the coarsest sort, with eager wine, And talk of various kind deceived the road;
(Each hardly granted) serv'd them both to dine; Till each with other pleas'd, and loth to part, And when the tempest first appear'd to cease, While in their age they differ, join in heart.
A ready warning bid them part in peace. Thus stands an aged elm in ivy bound,
With still remark the pondering hermit view'd, Thus youthful ivy clasps an elm around.
In one so rich, a life so poor and rude ; Now sunk the sun; the closing hour of day And why should such, within himself he cry'd, Came onward, mantled o'er with sober grey; Lock the lost wealth a thousand want beside ? Nature in silence bid the world repose;
But what new marks of wonder soon took place, When near the road a stately palace rose :
In every settling feature of his face ; There, by the moon, through ranks of trees they pass, When from his vest the young companion bore Whose verdure crown'd their sloping sides of grass ; That cup the generous landlord own'd before, It chanc'd the noble master of the dome
And paid profusely with the precious bowl Still made his house the wandering stranger's home : The stinted kindness of this churlish soul. Yet still the kindness, from a thirst of praise,
But now the clouds in airy tumult fly;
The sun emerging opes an azure sky;
The weather courts them from the poor retreat,
And the glad master bolts the wary gate. Then led to rest, the day's long toil they drown, While hence they walk, the pilgrim's bosom Deep sunk in sleep, and silk, and heaps of down.
wrought At length 'tis morn, and at the dawn of day, With all the travel of uncertain thought; Along the wide canals the zephyrs play :
His partner's acts without their cause appear, Fresh o'er the gay parterres the breezes creep, 'Twas there a vice, and seem'd a madness here : And shake the neighbouring wood, to banish sleep. Detesting that, and pitying this, he goes, Up rise the guests, obedient to the call :
Lost and confounded with the various shows. An early banquet deck'd the splendid hall;
Now night's dim shades again involve the sky, Rich luscious wine a golden goblet grac'd,
Again the wanderers want a place to lie ;
It seem'd to speak its master's turn of mind,
Hither the walkers turn with weary feet, Glistening and basking in the summer ray,
Then bless the mansion, and the master greet: Disorder'd stops to shun the danger near,
Their greeting fair, bestow'd with modest guise, Then walks with faintness on, and looks with fear; The courteous master hears, and thus replies : So seem'd the sire; when far upon the road,
Without a vain, without a grudging heart,
To him who gives us all, I yield a part;
They talk of virtue till the time of bed,
At length the world, renew'd by calm repose, And beasts to covert scud across the plain.
Was strong for toil, the dappled morn arose; Warn'd by the signs, the wandering pair retreat, Before the pilgrims part, the younger crept, To seek for shelter at a neighbouring seat.
Near the clos'd cradle where an infant slept, 'Twas built with turrets, on a rising ground, And writh'd his neck : the landlord's little pride, And strong, and large, and unimprov'd around ; O strange return! grew black, and gasp'd, and dy'd. Its owner's temper, timorous and severe,
Horror of horrors ! what! his only son ! Unkind and griping, caus'd a desert there.
How look'd our hermit when the fact was done! As near the miser's heavy doors they drew, Not hell, though hell's black jaws in sunder part, Fierce rising gusts with sudden fury blew;
And breathe blue fire, could more assault his heart. The nimble lightning mix'd with showers began, Confused, and struck with silence at the deed, And o'er their
heads loud rolling thunders ran. He flies, but trembling fails to fly with speed. Here long they knock, but knock or call in vain, His steps the youth pursues ; the country lay Driven by the wind, and batter'd by the rain. Perplex'd with roads, a servant show'd the way: At length some pity warm’d the master's breast A river cross'd the path; the passage o'er ('Twas then his threshold first receiv'd a guest); Was nice to find; the servant trod before ;
Long arms of oaks an open bridge supply'd,
The great, vain man, who fared on costly food, And deep the waves beneath the bending glide. Whose life was too luxurious to be good; The youth, who seem'd to watch a time to sin, Who made his ivory stands with goblets shine, Approach'd the careless guide, and thrust him in ;. And forc'd his guests to morning draughts of wine ; Plunging he falls, and rising lifts his head,
Has, with the cup, the graceless custom lost, Then flashing turns, and sinks among the dead. And still he welcomes, but with less of cost.
Wild, sparkling rage inflames the father's eyes, The mean suspicious wretch, whose bolted door He bursts the bands of fear, and madly cries, Ne'er mov'd in duty to the wandering poor; Detested wretch !_But scarce his speech began, With him I left the cup, to teach his mind When the strange partner seem'd no longer man : That Heaven can bless, if mortals will be kind. His youthful face grew more serenely sweet ; Conscious of wanting worth, he views the bowl, His robe turn'd white, and flow'd upon his feet; And feels compassion touch his grateful soul. Fair rounds of radiant points invest his hair ; Thus artists melt the sullen ore of lead, Celestial odours breathe through purpled air ; With heaping coals of fire upon its head; And wings, whose colours glitter'd on the day, In the kind warmth the metal learns to glow, Wide at his back their gradual plumes display. And loose from dross the silver runs below. The form ethereal burst upon his sight,
Long had our pious friend in virtue trod, And moves in all the majesty of light.
But now the child half wean'd his heart from God;
And measur'd back his steps to earth again.
But God, to save the father, took the son.
To all but thee, in fits he seem'd to go, (The voice of music ravish'd as he spoke):
(And 'twas my ministry to deal the blow): Thy prayer, thy praise, thy life to vice unknown, The poor fond parent, humbled in the dust, In sweet memorial rise before the throne :
Now owns in tears the punishment was just. These charms success in our bright region find, But now had all his fortune felt a wrack, And force an angel down to calm thy mind; Had that false servant sped in safety back; For this commission'd, I forsook the sky;
This night his treasur'd heaps he meant to steal, Nay, cease to kneel_Thy fellow-servant 1.
And what a fund of charity would fail ! Then know the truth of government divine, Thus Heaven instructs thy mind : this trial o'er, And let these scruples be no longer thine.
Depart in peace, resign, and sin no more. The Maker justly claims that world he made, On sounding pinions here the youth withdrew, In this the right of Providence is laid ;
The sage stood wondering as the seraph flew. Its sacred majesty through all depends
Thus look'd Elisha when, to mount on high, On using second means to work his ends :
His master took the chariot of the sky; "Tis thus, withdrawn in state from human eye, The fiery pomp ascending left to view, The Power exerts his attributes on high ;
The prophet gazed, and wish'd to follow too. Your actions uses nor controls your will,
The bending hermit here a prayer begun,
What strange events can strike with more surprise, Then gladly turning, sought his ancient place,
Calliope, and God knows who.
The sum of all I have to say,
There's one thing more I had almost slipt,
ANOTHER EPISTLE TO THE SAME.
No family, that takes a whelp
My uncle, rest his soul ! when living,
All this you made me quit, to follow
Burleigh, May 14, 1689.
To those might better spare them ten :-
Then take it, Sir, as it was writ,
Here some would scratch their heads, and try What they should write, and how, and why;
But I conceive, such folks are quite in
Verse comes from heaven, like inward light;
Memnon, though stone, was counted vocal; But 'twas the god, meanwhile, that spoke all. Rome oft has heard a cross haranguing, With prompting priest behind the hanging : The wooden head resolv'd the question While you and Pettis help'd the jest on.
Your crabbed rogues, that read Lucretius, Are against gods, you know; and teach us, The gods make not the poet; but The thesis, vice-versa put, Should Hebrew-wise be understood ; And means, the poet makes the god.
Egyptian gardeners thus are said to
That when you poets swear and cry,
So atoms dancing round the centre,
But, granting matters should be spoke
props support our infant vein,
'Tis not how well an author says ;
Kind Sir, I should be glad to see you ;
So at pure barn of loud Non-con,
For your religion, first, of her,
In politics, I hear, you're stanch,
For me, whom wandering fortune threw
The books, of which I'm chiefly fond,
At distance through an artful glass
To the mind's eye things well appear : They lose their forms, and make a mass
Confus'd and black if brought too near.
Which, though they're things I've no concern in,
Critics I read on other men,
Then all your wits that fileer and sham,
Sometimes I climb my mare, and kick her
Thus without much delight or grief,
If we see right, we see our woes :
Then what avails it to have eyes ?
The only wretched are the wise.
This cheat of life would take no more; If you thought fame but empty breath,
Í Phillis but a perjur'd whore.
HON. CHARLES MONTAGUE, ESQ.
AFTERWARDS EARL OF HALIFAX.
HOWE'ER, 'tis well, that while mankind
Through fate's perverse meander errs, He can imagin'd pleasures find,
To combat against real cares. Fancies and notions he pursues,
Which ne'er had being but in thought; Each, like the Grecian artist, woos
The image he himself has wrought.
THE LADY'S LOOKING-GLASS. IN IMITATION OF A GREEK IDYLLIUM. CELIA and I the other day Walk'd o'er the sand-hills to the sea : The setting sun adorn'd the coast, His beams entire, his fierceness lost : And, on the surface of the deep, The winds lay only not asleep. The nymph did like the scene appear, Serenely pleasant, calmly fair: Soft fell her words, as flew the air, With secret joy I heard her say, That she would never miss one day A walk so fine, a sight so gay.
But, oh the change the winds grow high ;
Once more at least look back, said I,
But when vain doubt and groundless fear
Shipwreck'd, in vain to land I make,
Against experience he believes ;
He argues against demonstration ; Pleas'd, when his reason he deceives;
And sets his judgment by his passion. The hoary fool, who many days
Has struggled with continued sorrow, Renews his hope, and blindly lays
The desperate bet upon to-morrow. To-morrow comes ; 'tis noon, 'tis night;
This day like all the former flies : Yet on he runs, to seek delight
To-morrow, till to-night he dies. Our hopes, like towering falcons, aim
At objects in an airy height: The little pleasure of the game
Is from afar to view the flight.
Our anxious pains we, all the day,
In search of what we like, employ: Scorning at night the worthless prey,
We find the labour gave the joy.