E 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 smoking;

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.

A

ND he was kind, and loved to sit
In the low hut or garnished

cottage,

And praise the farmer's homely wit,

And share the widow's homelier pottage:

At his approach complaint grew mild;

And when his hand unbarred the shutter,

The clammy lips of fever smiled

The welcome which they could not utter.

H

E 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 powdered wig,

To steal the staff he put such trust in,

And make the puppy dance a jig,

When he began to quote Augustine.

A

LACK the change! in vain I look
For haunts in which my boy-

hood trifled,

The level lawn, the trickling brook,

The trees I climbed, the beds I rifled:

The church is larger than before;

You reach it by a carriage entry ; It holds three hundred people more, And pews are fitted up for

gentry.

S

IT in the Vicar's seat: you'll hear

is clear,

The doctrine of a gentle Johnian, Whose hand is white, whose tone

Whose phrase is very Ciceronian.

Where is the old man laid?-look down,
And construe on the slab before you,
"Hic jacet GVLIELMVS BROWN,
Vir nulla non donandus lauru."