What is your hazard, foolish daughters, tell? If safe, you're certain; if secure, you're well: That I have luck must friend and foe confess, And what's good judgment but a lucky guess? He boasts but what he can do :-will you run From me, your friend! who, all he boasts, have done?

By proud and learned words his powers are known;

By healthy boys and handsome girls my own: Wives! fathers! children! by my help you live;

Three nephews these, one sprightly niece, and one,

Less near in blood-they call'd him surly John;

He worked in woods apart from all his kind, Fierce were his looks and moody was his mind.

For home the Sailor now began to sigh:'The dogs are dead, and I'll return and die; When all I have, my gains, in years of care, The younger Cuffs with kinder souls shall share:

sound:

My lads are all your fields and flocks require;
My lasses all those sturdy lads admire.
Can this proud leech, with all his boasted skill,
Amend the soul or body, wit or will?
Does he for courts the sons of farmers frame,
Or make the daughter differ from the dame?
Or, whom he brings into this world of wo,
Prepares he them their part to undergo ?
If not, this stranger from your doors repel,
And be content to be and to be well.'

She spake; but, ah! with words too strong and plain;

Her warmth offended, and her truth was vain :
The many left her, and the friendly few,
If never colder, yet they older grew;
Till, unemploy'd, she felt her spirits droop,
And took, insidious aid! th' inspiring cup;
Grew poor and peevish as her powers decay'd,
And propp'd the tottering frame with stronger
aid,-

Then died!-I saw our careful swains convey, From this our changeful world, the matron's clay,

Who to this world, at least, with equal care, Brought them its changes, good and ill to share.

Now to his grave was Roger Cuff convey'd, And strong resentment's lingering spirit laid. Shipwreck'd in youth, he home return'd, and found

His brethren three-and thrice they wish'd him drown'd.

Is this a landman's love? Be certain then, We part for ever! '—and they cried,' Amen!' His words were truth's :-Some forty summers fled;

His brethren died; his kin supposed him dead:

say,

"You're welcome, Uncle, as the flowers in May."

Yet death of man proclaim these heavy chimes, For thrice they sound, with pausing space, three times.

'Go; of my sexton seek, Whose days are sped?

What! he, himself! -and is old Dibble dead ? '

His eightieth year he reach'd, still undecay'd, And rectors five to one close vault convey'd :

But he is gone; his care and skill I lose, And gain a mournful subject for my Muse: His masters lost, he'd oft in turn deplore, And kindly add,-' Heaven grant, I lose no more !'

Yet, while he spake, a sly and pleasant glance Appear'd at variance with his complaisance : For, as he told their fate and varying worth, He archly look'd,-'I yet may bear thee forth.'

'When first '-(he so began)-' my trade I plied,

Good master Addle was the parish-guide;
His clerk and sexton, I beheld with fear
His stride majestic, and his frown severe;
A noble pillar of the church he stood,
Adorn'd with college-gown and parish-hood:
Then as he paced the hallow'd aisles about,
He fill'd the sevenfold surplice fairly out!
But in his pulpit, wearied down with prayer,
He sat and seem'd as in his study's chair;

ceased,

priest:

Such was their life: but when the woodman died,

His grieving kin for Roger's smiles appliedIn vain; he shut, with stern rebuke, the

door,

And dying, built a refuge for the poor; With this restriction, That no Cuff should share

One meal, or shelter for one moment there. My record ends :-But hark! e'en now I hear

The bell of death, and know not whose to fear :

Our farmers all, and all our hinds were well; In no man's cottage danger seem'd to dwell;

Who, dozing, died.-Our Parson Peele was

next;

"I will not spare you," was his favourite text;

Nor did he spare, but raised them many a pound;

Ev'n me he mulct for my poor rood of ground; Yet cared he nought, but with a gibing speech,

"What should I do," quoth he, "but what I preach ?

His piercing jokes (and he'd a plenteous store) Were daily offer'd both to rich and poor; His scorn, his love, in playful words he spoke ; His pity, praise, and promise, were a joke: But though so young and bless'd with spirits

high,

He died as grave as any judge could die :

The strong attack subdued his lively powers,His was the grave, and Doctor Grandspear

ours.

'Then were there golden times the village round;

In his abundance all appear'd t' abound;
Liberal and rich, a plenteous board he spread,
E'en cool Dissenters at his table fed;
Who wish'd, and hoped,-and thought a man
so kind

Nor, like the doctor, wore a world of hat,
As if he sought for diginity in that:
He talk'd, he gave, but not with cautious
rules:-

Nor turn'd from gipsies, vagabonds, or fools;
It was his nature, but they thought it whim,
And so our beaux and beauties turn'd from
him :

Of questions, much he wrote, profound and dark,

might find;

To them, to all, he was polite and free, Kind to the poor, and, ah! most kind to me: "Ralph," would he say, " Ralph Dibble, thou art old;

"That doublet fit, 'twill keep thee from the cold:

How does my Sexton ?-What! the times are hard;

the ark;

From what far land the Queen of Sheba came; Who Salem's priest, and what his father's

name;

He made the Song of Songs its mysteries yield,

around,

66

jest:

Thy coat is thin; why, man, thou'rt barely dress'd;

It's worn to th' thread: but I have nappy beer;

Clap that within, and see how they wear!"

will

ground,

(Though dare I not of one man's hope to doubt),

I'd join the party who repose without. 'Next came a youth from Cambridge, and, in truth,

He was a sober and a comely youth;

quickly past:

And gain'd attention ere his task began;

last:

A whoreson cough (and at the fall of leaf) Upset him quite :-but what's the gain of grief?

'Then came the Author-Rector: his delight Was all in books; to read them, or to write: Women and men he strove alike to shun, And hurried homeward when his tasks were done :

Courteous enough, but careless what he said,
For points of learning he reserved his head;
And when addressing either poor or rich,
He knew no better than his cassock which:
He, like an osier, was of pliant kind,
Erect by nature, but to bend inclined;
Not like a creeper falling to the ground,
Or meanly catching on the neighbours

round :

Careless was he of surplice, hood, and band,And kindly took them as they came to hand:

But touch'd his neighbours tenderly enough. Him, in his youth, a clamorous sect assail'd, Advised and censured, flatter'd,—and prevail'd.

Then did he much his sober hearers vex,
Confound the simple, and the sad perplex;
To a new style his reverence rashly took;
Loud grew his voice, to threat'ning swell'd his
look;

Above, below, on either side, he gazed,
Amazing all, and most himself amazed:
No more he read his preachments pure and
plain,

But launch'd outright, and rose and sank again :

At times he smiled in scorn, at times he wept,

And such sad coil with words of vengeance

kept,

That our best sleepers started as they slept.

"Conviction comes like lightning," he would cry;

"In vain you seek it, and in vain you fly; "Tis like the rushing of the mighty wind, Unseen its progress, but its power you find ; It strikes the child ere yet its reason wakes; His reason fled, the ancient sire it shakes; The proud, learn'd man, and him who loves to know

will blow,

My alms-deeds all, and every deed I've done,

My moral-rags defile me every one;

It should not be-what say'st thou ? tell me, Ralph."

Quoth I," Your reverence, I believe, you're safe;

Your faith's your prop, nor have you pass'd

such time

It shuns, but sinners in their way impedes,
And sots and harlots visits in their deeds:
Of faith and penance it supplies the place;
Assures the vilest that they live by grace,
And, without running, makes them win the
race."

'Such was the doctrine our young prophet taught;

And here conviction, there

wrought;

confusion

fast;

I've seen my best of preachers, and my last.'

He bow'd, and archly smiled at what he said,

Civil but sly:-' And is old Dibble dead?' Yes! he is gone and WE are going all; Like flowers we wither, and like leaves we fall;

Here, with an infant, joyful sponsors come, Then bear the new-made Christian to its home;

A few short years and we behold him stand,

To ask a blessing, with his bride in hand:
A few, still seeming shorter, and we hear
His widow weeping at her husband's bier :-
Thus, as the months succeed, shall infants

take

Their names; thus parents shall the child forsake;

Thus brides again and bridegrooms blithe shall kneel,

By love or law compell'd their vows to seal,

Ere I again, or one like me, explore
These simple annals of the VILLAGE POOR.

Omnia habeo, neque quicquam habeo ;

Quidquid dicunt, laudo ; id rursum si negant, laudo id quoque :

Negat quis, nego; ait, aio:
Postremo imperavi egomet mihi
Omnia assentari.

TERENT. in Eunuch. Act II, Sc. 2, v. 12,... 20, 21.

It has been held in ancient rules,
That flattery is the food of fools;
Yet now and then your men of wit
Will condescend to taste a bit.

SWIFT, Cadenus and Vanessa, 1. 758. The Subject-Poverty and Cunning described -When united, a jarring Couple-Mutual Reproof-The Wife consoled by a Dream -Birth of a Daughter-Description and Prediction of Envy-How to be rendered ineffectual, explained in a Vision-Simulation foretells the future Success and Triumphs of Flattery-Her Power over various Characters and different Minds; over certain Classes of Men; over Envy himself-Her successful Art of softening the Evils of Life; of changing Characters; of meliorating Prospects, and affixing Value to Possessions, Pictures, &c.-Conclusion.

Yes! they appear, I see the fairy-train ! And who that modest nymph of meek

address ?

Not Vanity, though loved by all the vain ; Not Hope, though promising to all success; Nor Mirth, nor Joy, though foe to all dis

tress;

Thee, sprightly syren, from this train I choose,

Thy birth relate, thy soothing arts confess; 'Tis not in thy mild nature to refuse, When poets ask thine aid, so oft their meed and muse.

In Fairy-land, on wide and cheerless plain, Dwelt, in the house of Care, a sturdy swain; A hireling he, who, when he till'd the soil, Look'd to the pittance that repaid his toil; And to a master left the mingled joy And anxious care that follow'd his employ : Sullen and patient he at once appear'd, As one who murmur'd, yet as one who fear'd ; Th' attire was coarse that clothed his sinewy Rude his address, and Poverty his name. frame, In that same plain a nymph, of curious taste,

ties; Who could in view those shadowy beings bring,

And with bold hand remove each dark disguise,

Wherein love, hatred, scorn, or anger lies: Guide him to Fairy-land, who now intends That way his flight; assist him as he flies, To mark those passions, Virtue's foes and friends,

By whom when led she droops, when leading she ascends.

placed;