32
And there his Son, when tried by years of pain,
Who prov'd misfortune's may be sent in vain.
The magic-mill that grinds the gran'nams young,
Close at the side of kind Godiva hung;
She, of her favourite place the pride and joy.
Of charms at once most lavish and most coy;
By wanton act, the purest fame could raise,
And give the boldest deed, the chastest praise.
There stands the stoutest Ox that England fed;
There fights the boldest Jew, Whitechapel bred;
And here Saint Monday's worthy votaries live,
In all the joys that ale and skittles give.
Now lo! in Egypt's coast, that hostile fleet,
That nations dreaded and that Nelson beat;
And here will soon that other fleet be shown,
That Nelson made the ocean's and our own,
Distressing glory! grievous boon of fate!
The proudest conquest, at the dearest rate.
On shelf of deal beside the cuckoo-clock,
Of cottage-reading rests the chosen stock;
Learning we lack, not books, but have a kind
For all our wants, a meat for every mind:
The tale for wonder, and the joke for whim,
The half-sung sermon, and the half-groan'd hymn.
No need of classing; each within its place,
The feeling finger, in the dark can trace;
"First from the corner, farthest from the wall,"
Such all the rules, and they suffice for all.
There pious works for Sunday's use are found,
Companions for that Bible newly bound;
Who prov'd misfortune's may be sent in vain.
The magic-mill that grinds the gran'nams young,
Close at the side of kind Godiva hung;
She, of her favourite place the pride and joy.
Of charms at once most lavish and most coy;
By wanton act, the purest fame could raise,
And give the boldest deed, the chastest praise.
There stands the stoutest Ox that England fed;
There fights the boldest Jew, Whitechapel bred;
And here Saint Monday's worthy votaries live,
In all the joys that ale and skittles give.
Now lo! in Egypt's coast, that hostile fleet,
That nations dreaded and that Nelson beat;
And here will soon that other fleet be shown,
That Nelson made the ocean's and our own,
Distressing glory! grievous boon of fate!
The proudest conquest, at the dearest rate.
On shelf of deal beside the cuckoo-clock,
Of cottage-reading rests the chosen stock;
Learning we lack, not books, but have a kind
For all our wants, a meat for every mind:
The tale for wonder, and the joke for whim,
The half-sung sermon, and the half-groan'd hymn.
No need of classing; each within its place,
The feeling finger, in the dark can trace;
"First from the corner, farthest from the wall,"
Such all the rules, and they suffice for all.
There pious works for Sunday's use are found,
Companions for that Bible newly bound;
