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He look'd, and faw a creature heav'nly fair,
In bloom of youth, and of a charming air.
With joy he turn'd, and seiz'd her iv'ry arm;
And like Pygmalion found the statue warm.
Small arguments there needed to prevail,
A ftorm of kiffes pour'd as thick as hail.
Thus long in mutual blifs they lay embrac❜d,
And their firft love continu'd to the laft:

One funfhine was their life, no cloud between;
Nor ever was a kinder couple feen.

And fo may all our lives like theirs be led;
Heav'n fend the maids young husbands fresh in bed;
May widows wed as often as they can,

And ever for the better change their man.
And fome devouring plague pursue their lives,
Who will not well be govern'd by their wives.

THE

CHARACTER

OF A

GOOD PARSO N. ·

A

His

Parish priest was of the pilgrim-train;
An awful, reverend, and religious man.
eyes diffus'd a venerable grace,

And charity itself was in his face.

Rich was his foul, tho' his attire was poor;
(As God had cloth'd his own ambassador;)
For fuch, on earth, his bless'd redeemer bore.
Of fixty years he feem'd; and well might laft
To fixty more, but that he liv'd too fast;
Refin'd himself to foul, to curb the sense;
And made almost a fin of abftinence.
Yet, had his afpect nothing of fevere,
But fuch a face as promis'd him fincere.
Nothing reserv'd or fullen was to fee:
But fweet regards; and pleasing fanctity:
Mild was his accent, and his action free.
With eloquence innate his tongue was arm'd;
Tho' harsh the precept, yet the people charm'd.
For letting down the golden chain from high,
He drew his audience upward to the sky:
And oft with holy hymns, he charm'd their ears:
(A mufic more melodious than the spheres.)
For David left him, when he went to rest,
His lyre; and after him he fung the best.

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He

He bore his great commiffion in his look:

But fweetly temper'd awe; and soften'd all he spoke. He preach'd the joys of heav'n, and pains of hell: And warn'd the finner with becoming zeal;

But on eternal mercy lov'd to dwell.

He taught the gospel rather than the law;
And forc'd himself to drive; but lov'd to draw.
For fear but freezes minds: but love, like heat,
Exhales the foul fublime, to feek her native feat,
To threats the ftubborn finner oft is hard,
Wrapp'd in his crimes, against the ftorm prepar'd;
But, when the milder beams of mercy play,
He melts, and throws his cumbrous cloak away.
Lightning and thunder (heav'n's artillery)
As harbingers before th' almighty fly:

Those but proclaim his ftile, and disappear;
The ftiller found fucceeds, and God is there.
The tithes, his parish freely paid, he took;
But never fu'd, or curs'd with bell and book.
With patience bearing wrong; but off'ring none :
Since every man is free to lose his own.

The country churls, according to their kind,
(Who grudge their dues, and love to be behind,)
The lefs he fought his off'rings, pinch'd the more,
And prais'd a priest contented to be poor.

Yet of his little he had fome to spare,
To feed the famifh'd, and to clothe the bare:
For mortify'd he was to that degree,

A poorer than himself he wou'd not fee.

True priests, he faid, and preachers of the word,
Were only stewards of their fov'reign lord;
Nothing was theirs; but all the public store:
Intrusted riches, to relieve the poor.
Who, fhould they fteal, for want of his relief,
He judg'd himself accomplice with the thief.

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Wide

Wide was his parish; not contracted close
In ftreets, but here and there a ftraggling houfe;
Yet ftill he was at hand, without request,

To ferve the fick; to fuccour the diftrefs'd:
Tempting, on foot, alone, without affright,
The dangers of a dark tempeftuous night.

All this, the good old man perform'd alone,
Nor spar'd his pains; for curate he had none.
Nor durft he truft another with his care;

Nor rode himself to Paul's, the public fair.
To chaffer for preferment with his gold,
Where bishoprics and fine cures are fold.
But duly watch'd his flock, by night and day;
And from the prowling wolf redeemed the prey:
And hungry fent the wily fox away.

The proud he tam'd, the penitent he chear'd:
Nor to rebuke the rich offender fear'd.

His preaching much, but more his practice wrought; (A living fermon of the truths he taught;)

For this by rules fevere his life he fquar'd:
That all might fee the doctrine which they heard.
For priests, he faid, are patterns for the reft:
(The gold of heav'n, who bear the God imprefs'd:)
But when the precious coin is kept unclean,
The fov'reign's image is no longer feen.

If they be foul on whom the people truft,
the bafer brass contract a rust.

Well may

The prelate, for his holy life he priz'd;
The worldly pomp of prelacy defpis'd,
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 defign'd
And living taught, and dying left behind.
The crown he wore was of the pointed thorn:
In purple he was crucify'd, not born.

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They

They who contend for place and high degree,
Are not his fons, but those of Zebedee.

Not but he knew the signs of earthly pow'r
Might well become faint Peter's fucceffor;
The holy father holds a double reign,

The prince may keep his pomp, the fifher must be plain.
Such was the faint; who fhone with ev'ry grace,
Reflecting, Mofes like, his Maker's face.

God faw his image lively was exprefs'd;
And his own work, as in creation bless'd.
The tempter faw 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, though great in arms, the priest withstood :
Near tho' he was, yet not the next of blood.
Had Richard unconstrain'd, refign'd the throne,
A king can give no more than is his own:
The title flood entail'd, had Richard had a son.
Conqueft, an odious name, was laid aside,
Where all fubmitted, none the battle try'd.
The fenfelefs plea of right by providence
Was, by a flatt'ring priest, invented fince;
And lafts no longer than the prefent fway;
But juftifies the next who comes in play.

The people's right remains; let those who dare
Difpute their pow'r, when they the judges are.

He join'd not in their choice, because he knew Worfe might, and often did from change enfue. Much to himself he thought; but little spoke; And, undepriv'd, his benefice forfook.

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Now, through the land, his cure of fouls he stretch'd: And like a primitive apoftle preach'd.

Still chearful; ever conftant to his call;

By many follow'd; lov'd by moft, admir'd by all.

With

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