Hither the walkers turn, with weary feet, Then bless the mansion, and the master greet: Their greeting fair, bestow'd with modeft guife, The courteous 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 spoke, and bid the welcome table spread, Then talk'd of virtue till the time of bed, When the grave houfhold round his hall repair, Warn'd by a bell, and close the hours with pray'r. At length the world, renew'd by calm repofe, 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 gafp'd, and dy'd. Horror of horrors! what! his only fon! How look'd our hermit when the fact was done; He flies, but, trembling, fails to fly with speed. The The youth, who feem'd to watch a time to fin, Tho' loud, at first, the pilgrim's passion grew, Thy pray'r, thy praife, thy life, to vice unknown The The maker juftly claims that world he made; What strange events can strike with more furprize, Than those which lately ftruck thy wond'ring eyes? Yet, taught by thefe, confefs th' Almighty juft, 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 still he welcomes, but with lefs of coft. 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 (Child of his age) for him he liv'd in pain, 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 stood wond'ring as the seraph 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. I L |