Without refreshment on the road

From Jerome, or from Athanasius: And sure a righteous zeal inspired The hand and head that penn'd and

plann'd them, For all who understood ad

mired, And some who did not

understand them.

And praise the farmer's homely wit,
And share the widow's homelier pot.

tage:
At his approach complaint grew mild;
And when his hand unbarr’d the

shutter, The clammy lips of fever

smiled The welcome which they

could not utter.

He wrote, too, in a quiet way,
Small treatises, and smaller

verses,
And sage remarks on chalk

and clay,
And hints to noble Lords-

and nurses;
True histories of last year's

ghost,
Lines to a ringlet or a tur-

ban,
And trifles for the Morning

Post,
And nothings for Sylvanus Urban.

He always had a tale for me Of Julius Cæsar, or of

Venus;
From him I learnt the rule

of three,
Cat's-cradle, leap-frog, and
Quæ genus:
I used to singe his

powder'd wig, To steal the staff

he put such

trust in, And make the

puppy dance

a jig, When he began

to quote Augustine.

He did not think all mischief fair,

Although he had a knack of joking; He did not make himself a bear Although he had a taste for smok

ing; And when religious sects ran mad,

He held, in spite of all his learning, That if a man's belief is bad,

It will not be improved by burning.

“LIKE A STREAM WHICH RUNS WITH RAPID CHANGE FROM Alack the change! ROCKS TO ROSES.".

in vain I look For haunts in which my boyhood trifled, The level lawn, the trickling brook,

The trees I climb'd, the beds I rifled: The church is larger than before;

You reach it by a carriage entry;

And he was kind, and loved to sit

In the low hut or garnish'd cottage,