Near yonder copse, where once the garden smil'd, And still where many a garden flower grows wild; There, where a few torn shrubs the place disclose, The village preacher's modest mansion rose. A man he was to all the country dear, And passing rich with forty pounds a year; Remote from towns he ran his godly race, Nor e'er had chang'd, nor wish'd to change his place;

Unskilful he to fawn, or seek for power,

By doctrines fashion'd to the varying hour; Far other aims his heart had learn'd to prize, (More bent to raise the wretched than to rise.) His house was known to all the vagrant train, He chid their wanderings, but reliev'd their pain, The long remember'd beggar was his guest, 7 Whose beard descending swept his aged breast; The ruin'd spendthrift, now no longer proud, Claim'd kindred there, and had his claims allow'd; The broken soldier, kindly bade to stay, Sate by his fire, and talk'd the night away; Wept o'er his wounds, or tales of sorrow done, Shoulder'd his crutch, and show'd how fields were

Pleas'd with his guests, the good man learn'd to glow,

And quite forgot their vices in their woe;

7 Whose]
'Stay till

my beard shall sweep mine aged breast.' Hall's Satires, p. 79, ed. Singer.

8 Careless their merits, or their faults to scan, His pity gave ere charity began.)

Thus to relieve the wretched was his pride, (And e'en his failings lean'd to virtue's side;) But in his duty prompt at every call,

He watch'd and wept, he pray'd and felt for all.
And, as a bird each fond endearment tries
To tempt its new fledg'd offspring to the skies,
He tried each art, reprov'd each dull delay,
Allur'd to brighter worlds, and led the way.

Beside the bed where parting life was laid, And sorrow, guilt, and pain, by turns dismay'd, The reverend champion stood. At his control Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul; Comfort came down the trembling wretch to raise, And his last faltering accents whisper'd praise.

At church, with meek and unaffected grace, 9 His looks adorn'd the venerable place; 10 Truth from his lips prevail'd with double sway,

8 Want pass'd for merit, at her open door.'

Dryden's Elegies, ii. p. 180.

9 His eyes diffused a venerable grace.'

10 Truth]

Dryden's good Parson, iii. 137.

For thou e'en sin didst in such words array,

That some who came bad parts, went out good play.'

Jasp. Mayne to the Mem. of B. Jonson.

Col. Poems, i. p. 256.

v. Nicholls'

And fools, who came to scoff, remain'd to pray.
The service past, around the pious man,

With ready zeal, each honest rustic ran;
E'en children follow'd with endearing wile,
And pluck'd his gown, to share the good man's
smile.

His ready smile a parent's warmth exprest,
Their welfare pleas'd him, and their cares distrest;
To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given,
But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven.
11 As some tall cliff that lifts its awful form,

11 As some]

As some tall tower, or lofty mountain's brow
Detains the sun, illustrious from its height,
While rising vapours and descending shades,
With damps and darkness drown the spacious vale,
Philander thus augustly rears his head.'

Young's Night Thoughts, b. ii.

And compare the following lines:

'Below you see, involv'd in guilt and strife,
The vulgar herd tug the gall'd load of life,
While you on nature's highest summit sate,
Unmov'd, regardless of the force of fate;
Olympus thus the rage of heaven divides,
While forky lightning plays around his sides:
Eternally serene, no winter sees,

Nor storms nor tempest interrupt his ease,
Insults the wreck, and higher rears his head
'Midst foaming deluges around him spread.
Hears undisturb'd descending torrents flow,
And spurns the thunder as it lays below.'

Bp. Warburton's Transl. from Claudian on
F. M. Theodorus.

Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm, Tho' round its breast the rolling clouds are spread, Eternal sunshine settles on its head.

Beside yon straggling fence that skirts the way,
With blossom'd furze unprofitably gay,
There, in his noisy mansion, skill'd to rule,
The village master taught his little school;
A man severe he was, and stern to view,
I knew him well, and every truant knew ;
Well had the boding tremblers learn'd to trace
The day's disasters in his morning face;
Full well they laugh'd with counterfeited glee
At all his jokes, for many a joke had he;)
Full well the busy whisper, circling round,
Convey'd the dismal tidings when he frown'd;
Yet he was kind, or, if severe in aught,
The love he bore to learning was in fault;
The village all declar'd how much he knew;
('Twas certain he could write and cipher too ;)
Lands he could measure, terms and tides presage,
And e'en the story ran that he could gauge;
In arguing too the parson own'd his skill,
For e'en though vanquish'd, he could argue still;"
While words of learned length and thundering
sound

Amaz'd the gazing rustics rang'd around,
And still they gaz'd, and still the wonder grew,
That one small head could carry all he knew.

But past is all his fame. The very spot Where many a time he triumph'd is forgot. Near yonder thorn, that lifts its head on high, Where once the signpost caught the passing eye, Low lies that house where nut-brown draughts

inspir'd,

Where gray-beard mirth, and smiling toil retir'd,
Where village statesmen talk'd with looks profound,
And news much older than their ale went round.
Imagination fondly stoops to trace

The parlour splendours of that festive place;
The whitewash'd wall, the nicely sanded floor,
The varnish'd clock that click'd behind the door;
The chest contriv'd a double debt to pay,

A bed by night, a chest of drawers by day;
The pictures plac'd for ornament and use,
The twelve good rules, the royal game of goose;
The hearth, except when winter chill'd the day,
With aspen boughs, and flowers and fennel gay;
While broken teacups, wisely kept for show,
Rang'd o'er the chimney, glisten'd in a row.

Vain transitory splendour! could not all
Reprieve the tottering mansion from its fall!
Obscure it sinks, hor shall it more impart
An hour's importance to the poor man's heart;
Thither no more the peasant shall repair
To sweet oblivion of his daily care;

No more the farmer's news, the barber's tale,
No more the woodman's ballad shall prevail;