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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, Whole 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 rising Sun his Journey went, Sedate to think, and watching each Event.
The Morn was wasted in the pathless Grass, 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 clasps an Elm around.
Now sunk the San ; the clofing Hour of Day Came onward, mantled o’er with fober Grey ; Nature in Silence bid the World repo e ; When near the Road a stately Palace role: There by the Moon thro' Ranks of Trees they pass, Whose Verdure crown'd their floping Sides of Grass,
It chanc'd the noble Master of the Dome
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 rise 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 secret Guise The younger Guest purloin'd the glitt’ring Prize.
As one who spies a Serpent in his Way,
Murm'ring he lifts his Eyes, and thinks it hard
While thus they pass, the Sun his Glory shrouds,
With still Remark the pond'ring Hermit view'd, In one so rich, a Life so poor and rude ;
And why should such (within himself he cry'd)
But now the Clouds in airy Tumult Ay,
Retreat, And the glad Mafter 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 bere, Detesting that, and pitying this he goes, Lost and confounded with the various Shows.
Now Night's dim Shades again involve the
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 Mafter 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 costly 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,
Confus'd, and struck with Silence at the Deed,