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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, Whofe Feet came wand'ring o'er the nightly Dew) He quits his Cell; the Pilgrim-ftaff he bore, And fix'd the Scallop in his Hat before; Then with the rifing Sun his Journey went, Sedate to think, and watching each Event.

The Morn was wafted in the pathlefs Grafs, And long and lonesome was the Wild to pass; But when the Southern Sun had warm'd the Day, A Youth came pofting o'er a crofling Way, His Raiment decent, his Complexion fair, And foft in graceful Ringlets wav'd his Hair, Then near approaching, Father, Hail! he cry'd; And Hail my Son, the reverend Sire reply'd; Words follow'd Words, from Queftion Anfwer flow'd, And Talk of various Kind deceiv'd the Road; . "Till with each other pleas'd, and loth to part, While in their Age they differ, join in Heart : Thus ftands an aged Elm in Ivy bound, 'Thus youthful Ivy clafps an Elm around.

Now funk the Sun; the clofing Hour of Day Came onward, mantled o'er with fober Grey; Nature in Silence bid the World repose; When near the Road a stately Palace rofe: There by the Moon thro' Ranks of Trees they pafs, Whofe Verdure crown'd their floping Sides of Grafs,

It

It chanc'd the noble Mafter of the Dome
Still made his Houfe the wand'ring Stranger's Home.
Yet ftill the Kindness, from a Thirst of Praise,
Prov'd the vain Flourish of expenfive Eafe.
The Pair arrive: The liv'ry'd Servants wait;
The Lord receives them at the pompous Gate,
The Table groans with coftly Piles of Food,
And all is more than hofpitably good.

Then led to Reft, the Day's long Toil they drown,
Deep funk in Sleep, and Silk, and Heaps of Down.

At length 'tis Morn, and at the Dawn of Day
Along the wide Canals the Zephyrs play;
Fresh o'er the gay Parterres the Breezes creep,
And fhake the neighb'ring Wood to banish Sleep.
Up rife the Guefts, obedient to the Call:
An early Banquet deck'd the fplendid Hall;
Rich luscious Wine a golden Goblet grac'd,
Which the kind Mafter forc'd the Guests to tafte.
Then pleas'd and thankful from the Porch they go;
And, but the Landlord, none had Cause of Woe;

His Cup
was vanish'd; for in fecret Guife
The younger Guest purloin'd the glitt'ring Prize.

As one who fpies a Serpent in his Way,
Glift'ning and bafking in the Summer Ray,
Disorder'd ftops to fhun the Danger near,
Then walks with Faintnefs on, and looks with Fear;
So feem'd the Sire; when, far upon the Road,
The fhining Spoil his wily Partner shew'd.
He ftopp'd with Silence, walk'd with trembling

Heart.

And much he wish'd, but durft not ask to part:

Mur

Murm'ring he lifts his Eyes, and thinks it hard
That gen'rous Actions meet a bafe Reward.

While thus they pafs, the Sun his Glory shrouds,
The changing Skies hang out their fable Clouds;
A Sound in Air prefag'd approaching Rain,
And Beafts to Covert fcud across the Plain,
Warn'd by the Signs, the wand'ring Pair retreat,
To feek for Shelter at a neighb'ring Seat.
'Twas built with Turrets, on a rifing Ground,
And ftrong, and large, and unimprov'd around;
It's Owner's Temper, Tim'rous and fevere,
Unkind and griping, caus'd a defart there.
As near the Mifer's heavy Door they drew ;
Fierce rifing Gufts with fudden Fury blew ;
The nimble Light'ning, mix'd with Show'rs
began,

And o'er their Heads loud-rolling Thunder ran
Here long they knock, but knock or call in vain
Driv'n by the Wind, and batter'd by the Rain.
At length fome Pity warm'd the Mafter's Breaft,
("Twas then his Threshold firft receiv'd a Gueft)
Slow creaking turns the Door with jealous Care,
And half he welcomes in the fhivering Pair;
One frugal Faggot lights the naked Walls,
And Nature's Fervor through their Limbs recalls :
Bread of the coarfeft Sort, with eager Wine,
(Each hardly granted) ferv'd them both to Dine;"
And when the Tempest first appear'd to cease,
A ready Warning bid them part in Peace.

With ftill Remark the pond'ring Hermit view'd, In one fo rich, a Life fo poor and rude;

And

And why should fuch (within himself he cry'd)
Lock the loft Wealth a Thousand want befide?
But what new Marks of Wonder foon took Place,
In ev'ry fettling Feature of his Face!

When from his Veft the young Companion

bore

That Cup, the gen'rous Landlord own'd before,
And paid profufely with the precious Bowl

The ftinted Kindness of this churlish Soul,

But now the Clouds in airy Tumult fly,
The Sun emerging opes an azure Sky;
A fresher Green the fmelling Leaves display,
And glitt'ring as they tremble, cheer the Day;
The Weather courts them from the poor Retreat,
And the glad Mafter bolts the wary Gate.

While hence they walk, the Pilgrim's Bofom wrought

With all the Travel of uncertain Thought;
His Partner's Acts without their Cause appear,
'Twas there a Vice, and feem'd a Madness here,
Detefting that, and pitying this he goes,
Loft and confounded with the various Shows.

Now Night's dim Shades again involve the
Sky,

Again the Wand'rers want a Place to lye,
Again they fearch, and find a Lodging nigh.
The Soil improv'd around the Manfion neat,
And neither poorly low, nor idly great;
It feem'd to speak its Master's Turn of Mind,
Content, and not for Praise, but Virtue kind.

}

Hither the Walkers turn'd with weary Feet, Then blefs the Manfion, and the Master greet: Their greeting fair, beftow'd with modeft Guife The courteous Master 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, from 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 Household round his Hall repair, Warn'd by a Bell, and clofe the Hours with Pray'r.

At length, the World renew'd by calm Repofe, Was ftrong for Toil, the dappled Morn arose : 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 gasp'd, and dy'd.

Horror of Horrors! what! his only Son!

How look'd our Hermit when the Fact was done? Not Hell, tho' Hell's black Jaws in funder part, And breathe blue Fire, could more affault his Heart.

Confus'd, and ftruck with Silence at the Deed,
He flies, but trembling fails to fly with Speed.
His Steps the Youth purfues; the Country lay
Perplex'd with Roads; a Servant fhow'd the
1 Way;

A River crofs'd the Path; the Paffage o'er
Was nice to find; the Servant trod before;

Long

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