His SAVIOUR came not with a gaudy show,
Nor was his kingdom of the world below.
Patience in want, and poverty of mind,
These marks of Church and Churchmen He design'd,
And living taught, and dying left behind.
The crown He wore was of the pointed thorn ;`
In purple He was crucified, not born.
They who contend for place and high degree,
Are not His sons, but those of Zebedee.
Not, but he knew the signs of earthly power
Might well become Saint Peter's successor :
The holy father holds a double reign,-
The prince may keep his pomp; the fisher must be plain.
Such was the saint who shone with ev'ry grace,
Reflecting, Moses-like, his MAKER's face.
GOD saw His image lively was expressed,
And His own work, as in creation, blessed.
The tempter saw him too, with envious eye,
And, as on Job, demanded leave to try.
He took the time when Richard was depos'd,
And high and low with happy Harry clos'd.
This prince, tho' great in arms, the priest with-
stood:
Near tho' he was, yet not the next of blood.
Had Richard, unconstrained, resigned the throne,
A king can give no more than is his own;
The title stood entailed, had Richard had a son.
Conquest, an odious name, was laid asie;
Where all submitted, none the battle tried..
The senseless plea of right by Providence
Was, by a flatt'ring priest, invented since,
And lasts no longer than the present sway,
But justifies the next who comes in play.
The people's right remains; let those who dare Dispute their power, when they the judges are.
He joined not in their choice; because he knew Worse might, and often did, from changé ensue. Much to himself he thought, but little spoke, And, undeprived, his benefice forsook.
Now, through the land his cure of souls he stretched,
And like a primitive apostle preached.
Still cheerful-ever constant to his call;
By many followed, loved by most, admired by all.
With what he begged, his brethren he reliev'd;
And gave the charities himself receiv'd.
Gave while he taught, and edified the more,
Because he shewed by proof, 'twas easy to be poor.
He went not, with the crowd, to see a shrine,
But fed us by the way, with food divine.
FAR in a wild, unknown to public view,
From youth to age a rev'rend Hermit grew;
The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell,
His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well:
Remote from man, with GOD he pass'd the days,
Pray'r all his bus'ness, all his pleasure praise.
A life so sacred, such serene repose,
Seem'd heav'n itself, 'till one suggestion rose;
That Vice should triumph, Virtue Vice obey,
This sprung some doubt of Providence's sway:
His hopes no more a certain prospect boast,
And all the tenour of his soul is lost :
So when a smooth expanse receives imprest
Calm nature's image on its watery breast,
Down bend the banks, the trees depending grow,
And skies beneath with answ'ring colours glow:
But if a stone the gentle sea divide,
Swift ruffling circles curl on every side,
And glimm'ring fragments of a broken sun,
Banks, trees, and skies in thick disorder run.
To clear this doubt, to know the world by sight,
To find if books, or swains, report it right;
(For yet by swains alone the world he knew,
Whose feet came wand'ring o'er the nightly dew)
He quits his cell; the pilgrim staff he bore,
And fix'd the scallop in his hat before;
Then with the sun a rising journey went,
Sedate to think, and watching each event.
The morn was wasted in the pathless grass,
And long and lonesome was the wild to pass;
But when the southern sun had warm'd the day,
A youth came posting o'er a crossing way;
His raiment decent, his complexion fair,
And soft in graceful ringlets wav'd his hair.
Then near approaching, “Father, hail!" he cried;
And, "Hail, my son !" the reverend sire replied;
Words follow'd words, from question answer
flow'd,
And talk of various kind deceiv'd the road:
'Till each with other pleas'd, and loth to part,
While in their age they differ, join in heart;
Thus stands an aged elm in ivy bound,
Thus youthful ivy clasps an elm around.
Now sunk the sun; the closing hour of day
Came onward, mantled o'er with sober grey;
Nature in silence bid the world repose :
When near the road a stately palace rose :
There by the moon through ranks of trees they
Whose verdure crown'd their sloping sides of grass.
It chanced the noble master of the dome
Still made his house the wand'ring stranger's
Thee, Sion, and the flow'ry brooks beneath,
That wash thy hallow'd feet, and warbling flow,
Nightly I visit: as the wakeful bird
Sings darkling, and, in shadiest covert hid,
Tunes her nocturnal note. Thus with the year
Seasons return, but not to me returns
Day, or the sweet approach of ev'n or morn,
Or sight of vernal bloom, or summer's rose,
Or flocks, or herds, or human face divine;
But cloud instead, and ever-during dark
Surrounds me, from the cheerful ways of men
Cut off, and for the book of knowledge fair,
Presented with a universal blank
Of Nature's works, to me expung'd and ras'd,
And wisdom at one entrance quite shut out.
So much the rather, thou celestial light,
Shine inward, and the mind through all her powers
Irradiate, there plant eyes, all mist from thence
Purge and disperse, that I may see and tell
Of things invisible to mortal sight.
FROM THE SAME. Book iv. I. 32.
O THOU that, with surpassing glory crown'd,
Look'st from thy sole dominion like the god
Of this new world; at whose sight all the stars
Hide their diminish'd heads; to thee I call,
But with no friendly voice, and add thy name,
O sun, to tell thee how I hate thy beams,
That bring to my remembrance from what state
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