The Borough | Page 7

parting without joy or pain,?He seem'd to come that he might go again.
The wondering girl, no prude, but something nice,?At length was chill'd by his unmelting ice;?She found her tortoise held such sluggish pace,?That she must turn and meet him in the chase:?This not approving, she withdrew, till one?Came who appear'd with livelier hope to run;?Who sought a readier way the heart to move,?Than by faint dalliance of unfixing love.
Accuse me not that I approving paint?Impatient Hope or Love without restraint;?Or think the Passions, a tumultuous throng,?Strong as they are, ungovernably strong:?But is the laurel to the soldier due,?Who, cautious, comes not into danger's view??What worth has Virtue by Desire untried,?When Nature's self enlists on Duty's side?
The married dame in vain assail'd the truth?And guarded bosom of the Hebrew youth;?But with the daughter of the Priest of On?The love was lawful, and the guard was gone;?But Joseph's fame had lessened in our view,?Had he, refusing, fled the maiden too.
Yet our good priest to Joseph's praise aspired,?As once rejecting what his heart desired;?"I am escaped," he said, when none pursued;?When none attack'd him, "I am unsubdued;"?"Oh pleasing pangs of love!" he sang again,?Cold to the joy, and stranger to the pain.?E'en in his age would he address the young,?"I too have felt these fires, and they are strong;"?But from the time he left his favourite maid,?To ancient females his devoirs were paid:?And still they miss him after Morning-prayer;?Nor yet successor fills the Vicar's chair,?Where kindred spirits in his praise agree,?A happy few, as mild and cool as he;?The easy followers in the female train,?Led without love, and captives without chain.
Ye Lilies male! think (as your tea you sip,?While the town small-talk flows from lip to lip;?Intrigues half-gather'd, conversation-scraps,?Kitchen cabals, and nursery-mishaps),?If the vast world may not some scene produce,?Some state where your small talents might have use;?Within seraglios you might harmless move,?'Mid ranks of beauty, and in haunts of love;?There from too daring man the treasures guard,?An easy duty, and its own reward;?Nature's soft substitutes, you there might save?From crime the tyrant, and from wrong the slave.
But let applause be dealt in all we may,?Our Priest was cheerful, and in season gay;?His frequent visits seldom fail'd to please;?Easy himself, he sought his neighbour's ease:?To a small garden with delight he came,?And gave successive flowers a summer's fame;?These he presented, with a grace his own,?To his fair friends, and made their beauties known,?Not without moral compliment; how they?"Like flowers were sweet, and must like flowers decay.'
Simple he was, and loved the simple truth,?Yet had some useful cunning from his youth;?A cunning never to dishonour lent,?And rather for defence than conquest meant;?'Twas fear of power, with some desire to rise,?But not enough to make him enemies;?He ever aim'd to please; and to offend?Was ever cautious; for he sought a friend;?Yet for the friendship never much would pay,?Content to bow, be silent, and obey,?And by a soothing suff'rance find his way.
Fiddling and fishing were his arts: at times?He alter'd sermons, and he aim'd at rhymes;?And his fair friends, not yet intent on cards,?Oft he amused with riddles and charades.?Mild were his doctrines, and not one discourse?But gain'd in softness what it lost in force:?Kind his opinions; he would not receive?An ill report, nor evil act believe;?"If true, 'twas wrong; but blemish great or small?Have all mankind; yea, sinners are we all."
If ever fretful thought disturb'd his breast,?If aught of gloom that cheerful mind oppress'd,?It sprang from innovation; it was then?He spake of mischief made by restless men:?Not by new doctrines: never in his life?Would he attend to controversial strife;?For sects he cared not; " They are not of us,?Nor need we, brethren, their concerns discuss;?But 'tis the change, the schism at home I feel;?Ills few perceive, and none have skill to heal:?Not at the altar our young brethren read?(Facing their flock) the decalogue and creed;?But at their duty, in their desks they stand,?With naked surplice, lacking hood and band:?Churches are now of holy song bereft,?And half our ancient customs changed or left;?Few sprigs of ivy are at Christmas seen,?Nor crimson berry tips the holly's green;?Mistaken choirs refuse the solemn strain?Of ancient Sternhold, which from ours amain?Comes flying forth from aisle to aisle about,?Sweet links of harmony and long drawn out."
These were to him essentials; all things new?He deemed superfluous, useless, or untrue:?To all beside indifferent, easy, cold,?Here the fire kindled, and the woe was told.
Habit with him was all the test of truth:?"It must be right: I've done it from my youth."?Questions he answer'd in as brief a way:?"It must be wrong--it was of yesterday."
Though mild benevolence our Priest possess'd,?'Twas but by wishes or by words expressed.?Circles in water, as they wider flow,?The less conspicuous in their progress grow,?And when at last they touch upon the shore,?Distinction ceases, and they're view'd no more.?His love,