Now tell me, dignified and sapient sir, My man of morals, nurtur'd in the shades Is Christ the abler teacher, or the schools? Has Epictetus, Plato, Tully, preach'd! Men that, if now alive, would sit content And humble learners of a Saviour's worth, 540 Preach it who might. Such was their love of truth, Their thirst of knowledge, and their candour too! And thus it is.-The pastor, either vain By nature, or by flatt'ry made so, taught Το gaze at his own splendour, and t'exalt Absurdly, not his office, but himself; Or unenlighten'd, and too proud to learn; Or vicious, and not therefore apt to teach; 550 Perverting often, by the stress of lewd And loose example, whom he should instruct; The noblest function, and discredits much The brightest truths, that man has ever seen. Below the exigence, or be not back'd With show of love, at least with hopeful proof Or be dishonour'd in th' exterior form 560 And mode of it's conveyance by such tricks, As move derision, or by foppish airs And histrionic mumm'ry, that let down The pulpit to the level of the stage; Drops from the lips a disregarded thing. The weak perhaps are mov'd, but are not taught, While prejudice in men of stronger minds Takes deeper root, confirm'd by what they see. A relaxation of religion's hold Upon the roving and untutor❜d heart 570 Soon follows, and, the curb of conscience snapp'd, The laity run wild.—But do they now? As nations, ignorant of God, contrive 580 Of whom I needs must augur better things, Since Heav'n would sure grow weary of a world Productive only of a race like ours, A monitor is wood-plank shaven thin. We wear it at our backs. There, closely brac'd And neatly fitted, it compresses hard The prominent and most unsightly bones, And binds the shoulder flat. We prove Sov'reign and most effectual to secure A form, not now gymnastic as of yore, From rickets and distortion, else our lot. it's use But, thus admonish'd, we can walk erect 590 One proof at least of manhood! while the friend Sticks close, a Mentor worthy of his charge. Our habits, costlier than Lucullus wore, And by caprice as multiplied as his, Just please us while the fashion is at full, But change with ev'ry moon. The sycophant, Who waits to dress us, arbitrates their date; This fits not nicely, that is ill conceived; Variety's the very spice of life, That gives it all it's flavour. We have run Through ev'ry change, that Fancy, at the loom 600 Exhausted, has had genius to supply; And, studious of mutation still, discard For monstrous novelty and strange disguise. 610 We sacrifice to dress, till household joys Where peace and hospitality might reign. What man that lives, and that knows how to live, A form as splendid as the proudest there, T'ensure a sidebox station at half price. You think perhaps, so delicate his dress, He picks clean teeth, and, busy as he seems With an old tavern quill, is hungry yet! 620 |