And glimm'ring Fragments of a broken Sun, 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, Whofe Feet came wand'ring o'er the nightly Dew) He quits his Cell; the Pilgrim-ftaff 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 wafted in the pathlefs Grafs, And long and lonesome was the Wild to pass; But when the Southern Sun had warm'd the Day, A Youth came pofting o'er a crofling Way, His Raiment decent, his Complexion fair, And foft 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 Queftion Anfwer 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 ftands 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 rofe: There by the Moon thro' Ranks of Trees they pafs, Whofe Verdure crown'd their floping Sides of Grafs, It It chanc'd the noble Mafter of the Dome Then led to Reft, the Day's long Toil they drown, At length 'tis Morn, and at the Dawn of Day His Cup As one who fpies a Serpent in his Way, Heart. And much he wish'd, but durft not ask to part: Mur Murm'ring he lifts his Eyes, and thinks it hard While thus they pafs, the Sun his Glory shrouds, And o'er their Heads loud-rolling Thunder ran With ftill Remark the pond'ring Hermit view'd, In one fo rich, a Life fo poor and rude; And And why should fuch (within himself he cry'd) When from his Veft the young Companion bore That Cup, the gen'rous Landlord own'd before, The ftinted Kindness of this churlish Soul, But now the Clouds in airy Tumult fly, While hence they walk, the Pilgrim's Bofom wrought With all the Travel of uncertain Thought; Now Night's dim Shades again involve the Again the Wand'rers want a Place to lye, } Hither the Walkers turn'd with weary Feet, Then blefs the Manfion, and the Master greet: Their greeting fair, beftow'd with modeft Guife 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 fober, 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 clofe the Hours with Pray'r. At length, the World renew'd by calm Repofe, Was ftrong for Toil, the dappled Morn arose : Before the Pilgrims part, the Younger crept Near the clos'd Cradle where an Infant flept, 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 funder part, And breathe blue Fire, could more affault his Heart. Confus'd, and ftruck with Silence at the Deed, A River crofs'd the Path; the Paffage o'er Long |