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Bread of the coarsest sort, with eager wine,
With still remark the pondering Hermit view'd,
Landlord own'd before,
But now the clouds in airy tumult fly ;
Now night's dim shades again involve the sky,
The soil improv'd around, the mansion neat,
Without a vain, without a grudging heart,
At length the world, renew'd by calm repofe, Was strong for toil, the dappled morn arose; Before the Pilgrims part, the younger crept, Near the clos’d cradle where an infant slept, And writh'd his neck : the Landlord's little pride, O strange 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, though hell's black jaws in sunder part, And breathe blue fire, could more assault his heart.
Confus'd, and struck with silence at the deed, He flies, but trembling fails to fly with speed. His steps the Youth pursues; the country lay Perplex'd with roads, a servant show'd the way:
A river cross'd the path; the passage o'er
Wild, sparkling rage inflames the father's eyes, ,
Though loud at first the Pilgrim's paffion grew, Sudden he gaz'd, and wist not what to do ; Surprize in secret chains his words suspends, And in a calm his settling temper ends. But silence here the beauteous Angel broke (The voice of music ravish'd as he spoke).
Thy prayer, thy praise, thy life to vice unknown, In sweet memorial rise before the throne : These charms, success in our bright region find, And force an Angel down, to calm thy mind;
For this, commiffion'd, I forsook the sky,
Then know the truth of government divine,
The Maker justly claims that world he made,
will, And bids the doubting sons of men be still.
What strange events can strike with more surprize, Than those which lately struck thy wondering eyes? Yet, taught by these, confess th’ Almighty just, And where you can't unriddle, learn to trust!
The great, vain man, who far'd on costly food, Whose life was too luxurious to be good ; Who made his ivory stands with goblets shine, And forc'd his guests to morning draughts of wine, Has, with the cup, the graceless custom loft, And still he welcomes, but with less of cost.
The mean, suspicious wretch, whose bolted door Ne'er mov'd in duty to the wandering poor ; With him I left the cup, to teach his mind That heaven can bless, if mortals will be kind. Conscious of wanting worth, he views the bowl, And feels compassion touch his grateful soul. Thus artists melt the fullen ore of lead, With heaping coals of fire upon its head;
In the kind warmth the metal learns to glow,
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 measur'd back his steps to earth again. To what excesses had his dotage run? But God, to save the father, took the son. To all but thee, in fits he seem’d to go, (And 't was my miniftry to deal the blow) The poor
fond parent, humbled in the dust, Now owns in tears the punishment was just.
But now had all his fortune felt a wrack,
On sounding pinions here the youth withdrew,
The bending Hermit here a prayer begun,