""Tis time my hard-mouth'd coursers to control,

Apt to run riot and transgress the goal,
And therefore I conclude: whatever lies 670
In earth, or flits in air, or fills the skies,
All suffer change; and we, that are of soul
And body mix'd, are members of the whole.
Then, when our sires, or grandsires, shall
forsake

The forms of men, and brutal figures take,
Thus hous'd, securely let their spirits rest,
Nor violate thy father in the beast
Thy friend, thy brother, any of thy kin;
If none of these, yet there's a man within:
O spare to make a Thyestean meal,
T' inclose his body, and his soul expel.

680

Then eats the poultry which before he fed ? Let plow thy steers; that, when they lose their breath,

To nature, not to thee, they may impute their death.

Let goats for food their loaded udders lend, And sheep from winter cold thy sides defend;

But neither springes, nets, nor snares employ,

And be no more ingenious to destroy.
Free, as in air, let birds on earth remain,
Nor let insidious glue their wings constrain;
Nor opening hounds the trembling stag
affright,

701

Nor purple feathers intercept his flight; Nor hooks conceal'd in baits for fish prepare, Nor lines to heave 'em twinkling up in air.

"Take not away the life you cannot give; For all things have an equal right to live. Kill noxious creatures, where 't is sin to save; This only just prerogative we have: But nourish life with vegetable food, And shun the sacrilegious taste of blood." 710 These precepts by the Samian sage were taught,

IMITATED FROM CHAUCER, AND INLARG’D

A PARISH priest was of the pilgrim train;
An awful, reverend, and religious man.
His eyes diffus'd a venerable grace,
And charity itself was in his face.
Rich was his soul, tho' his attire was poor,
(As God had cloth'd his own ambassador;)
For such, on earth, his blest Redeemer
bore.

Of sixty years he seem'd; and well might last

To sixty more, but that he liv'd too fast;
Refin'd himself to soul, to curb the sense;
And made almost a sin of abstinence.
Yet had his aspect nothing of severe,
But such a face as promis'd him sincere.
Nothing reserv'd or sullen was to see,
But sweet regards and pleasing sanctity;
Mild was his accent, and his action free.
With eloquence innate his tongue was arm'd;
Tho' harsh the precept, yet the preacher
charm'd.

For, letting down the golden chain from high,

He drew his audience upward to the sky; 20 And oft, with holy hymns, he charm'd their

And prais'd a priest contented to be poor.

Yet of his little he had some to spare, 50 To feed the famish'd, and to clothe the bare: For mortified he was to that degree, A poorer than himself he would not see. True priests, he said, and preachers of the word,

Were only stewards of their sovereign
Lord:

Nothing was theirs; but all the public store,
Intrusted riches, to relieve the poor;
Who, should they steal, for want of his
relief,

He judg'd himself accomplice with the thief.
Wide was his parish; not contracted

close

60

In streets, but here and there a straggling house;

Yet still he was at hand, without request, To serve the sick, to succor the distress'd; Tempting, on foot, alone, without affright, The dangers of a dark, tempestuous night. All this the good old man perform'd

alone,

Nor spar'd his pains; for curate he had none. Nor durst he trust another with his care;

Nor rode himself to Paul's, the public fair, To chaffer for preferment with his gold, 70 Where bishoprics and sinecures are sold; But duly watch'd his flock, by night and day,

And from the prowling wolf redeem'd the prey,

And hungry sent the wily fox away.

The proud he tam'd, the penitent he cheer'd,

Nor to rebuke the rich offender fear'd. His preaching much, but more his practice wrought;

(A living sermon of the truths he taught;) For this by rules severe his life he squar'd, That all might see the doctrine which they heard.

80

For priests, he said, are patterns for the rest; (The gold of heav'n, who bear the God impress'd;)

But when the precious coin is kept unclean,
The sovereign's image is no longer seen.
If they be foul on whom the people trust,
Well may the baser brass contract a rust.

The prelate for his holy life he priz'd;
The worldly pomp of prelacy despis'd.
His Savior came not with a gaudy show,
Nor was his kingdom of the world below. 90
Patience in want, and poverty of mind,
These marks of Church and Churchmen
he design'd,

And living taught, and dying left behind.
The crown he wore was of the pointed thorn;
In purple he was crucified, not born.
They who contend for place and high degree
Are not his sons, but those of Zebedee.

Not but he knew the signs of earthly

Pollutes the pleasures of a chaste embrace, Acts what I write, and propagates in grace,

With riotous excess, a priestly race. Suppose him free, and that I forge th' offense,

He shew'd the way, perverting first my

sense:

ΤΟ

In malice witty, and with venom fraught, He makes me speak the things I never thought.

Compute the gains of his ungovern'd zeal; Ill suits his cloth the praise of railing well. The world will think that what we loosely write,

Tho' now arraign'd, he read with some delight;

Because he seems to chew the cud again, When his broad comment makes the text too plain;

And teaches more in one explaining page, Than all the double meanings of the stage. 20 What needs he paraphrase on what we

mean?

By chance conducted, or by thirst constrain'd,

The deep recesses of the grove he gain'd, Where in a plain, defended by the wood, Crept thro' the matted grass a crystal flood,

By which an alabaster fountain stood; 90 And on the margin of the fount was laid (Attended by her slaves) a sleeping maid; Like Dian and her nymphs, when, tir'd with sport,

To rest by cool Eurotas they resort. The dame herself the goddess well express'd,

Not more distinguish'd by her purple vest, Than by the charming features of her face, And, ev'n in slumber, a superior grace: Her comely limbs compos'd with decent

140

Soon taught the sweet civilities of life;
His gross material soul at once could find
Somewhat in her excelling all her kind,
Exciting a desire till then unknown,
Somewhat unfound, or found in her alone.
This made the first impression in his mind,
Above, but just above, the brutal kind:
For beasts can like, but not distinguish too,
Nor their own liking by reflection know;
Nor why they like or this or t'other face,
Or judge of this or that peculiar grace;
But love in gross, and stupidly admire;
As flies, allur'd by light, approach the fire.
Thus our man-beast, advancing by degrees,
First likes the whole, then sep'rates what he