With no new light on love or liquor,

IS talk was like a stream, which runs
With rapid change from rocks to

roses:

It slipped from politics to puns,

It passed from Mahomet to Moses;

Beginning with the laws which keep
The planets in their radiant courses,

And ending with some precept deep

For dressing eels, or shoeing horses.

E was a shrewd and sound Divine,

Of loud Dissent the mortal terror;

And when, by dint of page and line, He 'stablished Truth, or startled Error,

The Baptist found him far too deep;
The Deist sighed with saving sorrow;

And the lean Levite went to sleep,

And dreamed of tasting pork to-morrow.

IS sermon never said or showed

That Earth is foul, that Heaven is gracious,

Without refreshment on the road From Jerome, or from Athanasius :

46

And sure a righteous zeal inspired

The hand and head that penned and planned

them,

For all who understood admired,

And some who did not understand them.

E 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 turban,
And trifles for the Morning Post,

And nothings for Sylvanus Urban.