And glimm'ring Fragments of a broken Sun,
Banks, Trees, and Skies, in thick Disorder run.

To clear this Doubt, to know the World by Sight, To find if Books, or Swains, report it right; (For yet by Swains alone the World he knew, Whose Feet came wand'ring o'er the nightly Dew) He quits his Cell; the Pilgrim-staff he bore, And fix'd the Scallop in his Hat before; Then with the rifing Sun his Journey went, Sedate to think, and watching each Event.

The Morn was wasted in the pathless Grafs, And long and lonesome was the Wild to pass; But when the Southern Sun had warm'd the Day, A Youth came posting o'er a crofling Way, His Raiment decent, his Complexion fair, And soft in graceful Ringlets wav'd his Hair, Then near approaching, Father, Hail! he cry'd; And Hail my Son, the reverend Sire reply'd; Words follow'd Words, from Question Answer flow'd, And Talk of various Kind deceiv'd the Road;. 'Till with each other pleas'd, and loth to part, While in their Age they differ, join in Heart: Thus stands an aged Elm in Ivy bound, 'Thus youthful Ivy clafps an Elm around.

Now funk the Sun; the clofing Hour of Day Came onward, mantled o'er with fober Grey; Nature in Silence bid the World repose; When near the Road a stately Palace rose: There by the Moon thro' Ranks of Trees they pass, Whose Verdure crown'd their floping Sides of Grafs,

It

It chanc'd the noble Master of the Dome
Still made his House the wand'ring Stranger's Home.
Yet still the Kindness, from a Thirst of Praife,
Prov'd the vain Flourish of expenfive Eafe.
The Pair arrive: The liv'ry'd Servants wait;
The Lord receives them at the pompous Gate,
The Table groans with coftly Piles of Food,
And all is more than hofpitably good.
Then led to Reft, the Day's long Toil they drown,
Deep funk in Sleep, and Silk, and Heaps of Down.

At length 'tis Morn, and at the Dawn of Day
Along the wide Canals the Zephyrs play;
Fresh o'er the gay Parterres the Breezes creep,
And shake the neighb'ring Wood to banish Sleep.
Up rife the Guests, obedient to the Call:
An early Banquet deck'd the splendid Hall;
Rich luscious Wine a golden Goblet grac'd,
Which the kind Master forc'd the Guests to taste.
Then pleas'd and thankful from the Porch they go;
And, but the Landlord, none had Cause of Woe;
His Cup was vanish'd; for in fecret Guife
The younger Guest purloin'd the glitt'ring Prize.

As one who spies a Serpent in his Way, Glist'ning and basking in the Summer Ray, Diforder'd stops to shun the Danger near, Then walks with Faintness on, and looks with Fear; So seem'd the Sire; when, far upon the Road, The shining Spoil his wily Partner shew'd.

He stopp'd with Silence, walk'd with trembling

Heart.

And much he wish'd, but durft not ask to part:

Mur

Murm'ring he lifts his Eyes, and thinks it hard
That gen'rous Actions meet a base Reward.

While thus they pass, the Sun his Glory shrouds,
The changing Skies hang out their sable Clouds;
A Sound in Air presag'd approaching Rain,
And Beasts to Covert scud across the Plain,
Warn'd by the Signs, the wand'ring Pair retreat,
To feek for Shelter at a neighb'ring Seat.
'Twas built with Turrets, on a rifing Ground,
And strong, and large, and unimprov'd around;
It's Owner's Temper, Tim'rous and fevere,
Unkind and griping, caus'd a desart there.
As near the Miser's heavy Door they drew;
Fierce rising Gusts with fudden Fury blew;
The nimble Light'ning, mix'd with Show'rs

began,

And o'er their Heads loud-rolling Thunder ran
Here long they knock, but knock or call in vain
Driv'n by the Wind, and batter'd by the Rain.
At length some Pity warm'd the Master's Breaft,
('Twas then his Threshold first receiv'd a Guest)
Slow creaking turns the Door with jealous Care,
And half he welcomes in the shivering Pair;
One frugal Faggot lights the naked Walls,
And Nature's Fervor through their Limbs recalls :
Bread of the coarsest Sort, with eager Wine,
(Each hardly granted) serv'd them both to Dine;
And when the Tempest first appear'd to cease,
A ready Warning bid them part in Peace.

With still Remark the pond'ring Hermit view'd, In one so rich, a Life so poor and rude,

And

And why should such (within himself he cry'd)
Lock the loft Wealth a Thousand want beside ?
But what new Marks of Wonder soon took Place,
In ev'ry settling Feature of his Face!
When from his Vest the young Companion
bore

That Cup, the gen'rous Landlord own'd before,
And paid profusely with the precious Bowl
The stinted Kindness of this churlish Soul,

But now the Clouds in airy Tumust fly, The Sun emerging opes an azure Sky; A fresher Green the smelling Leaves display, And glitt'ring as they tremble, cheer the Day; The Weather courts them from the poor Retreat, And the glad Master bolts the wary Gate.

While hence they walk, the Pilgrim's Bosom
wrought

- With all the Travel of uncertain Thought;
His Partner's Acts without their Cause appear,
'Twas there a Vice, and seem'd a Madness here,
Detesting that, and pitying this he goes,
Loft and confounded with the various Shows.

Now Night's dim Shades again involve the

ある

Sky,
Again the Wand'rers want a Place to lye,
Again they search, and find a Lodging nigh.
The Soil improv'd around the Manfion neat,
And neither poorly low, nor idly great;

It seem'd to speak its Master's Turn of Mind, - Content, and not for Praise, but Virtue kind.

}

Hither the Walkers turn'd with weary Feet, Then bless the Mansion, and the Master greet: Their greeting fair, bestow'd with modeft Guise The courteous Master hears, and thus replies :

Without a vain, without a grudging Heart, To him who gives us all, I yield a Part; From him you come, from him accept it here, A frank and sober, more than coftly Cheer. He spoke, and bid the welcome Table spread, Then talk'd of Virtue till the Time of Bed; When the grave Household round his Hall repair, Warn'd by a Bell, and close the Hours with Pray'r.

At length, the World renew'd by calm Repose, Was ftrong for Toil, the dappled Morn arose : Before the Pilgrims part, the Younger crept Near the clos'd Cradle where an Infant slept, And writh'd his Neck: The Landlord's little Pride, O ftrange Return! grew black, and gasp'd, and

dy'd.

Horror of Horrors! what! his only Son!
How look'd our Hermit when the Fact was done?
Not Hell, tho' Hell's black Jaws in sunder part,
And breathe blue Fire, could more assault his Heart.

Confus'd, and ftruck with Silence at the Deed,
He flies, but trembling fails to fly with Speed.
His Steps the Youth pursues; the Country lay
Perplex'd with Roads; a Servant show'd the

Way;

A River cross'd the Path; the Passage o'er
Was nice to find; the Servant trod before;

Long