The shepherd's homely cottage sought, And thus explor'd his reach of thought: "Whence is thy learning? Hath thy toil "O'er books consum'd the midnight oil? "Hast thou old Greece and Rome survey'd, "And the vast sense of Plato weigh'd? "Hath Socrates thy soul refin'd: "And hast thou fathom'd Tully's mind? "Or, like the wise Ulysses, thrown, "By various fates, on realms unknown, "Hast thou through many cities stray'd, "Their customs, laws, and männers, weigh'd ?"
The shepherd modestly replied;
"I ne'er the paths of learning tried;
"Nor have I roam'd in foreign parts,
"To read mankind, their laws, and arts;
"For man is practis'd in disguise,
"He cheats the most discerning eyes.
"The little knowledge I have gain'd,
"Was all from simple nature drain'd ;
"Hence my life's maxims took their rise,
"Hence grew my settled hate to vice.
“The daily labours of the bee
"Awake my soul to industry.
"Who can observe the careful ant,
"And not provide for future want?
"My dog (the trustiest of his kind)
"With gratitude inflames my mind:
"I mark his true, his faithful way,
"And in my service copy Tray.
"In constancy and nuptial love,
"I learn my duty from the dove.
"The hen, who from the chilly air
"With pious wings protects her care,
"And ev'ry fowl that flies at large,
"Instructs me in a parent's charge.
"From nature too, I take my rule,
"To shun contempt and ridicule.
"I never with important air,
"In conversation overbear.
"Can grave and formal pass for wise,
"When men the solemn owl despise ?
"My tongue within my lips I rein;
"For who talks much, must talk in vain.
"We from the wordy torrent fly ;
"Who listens to the chatt'ring pie?
"Nor would I with felonious flight,
"By stealth invade my neighbour's right;
"6 "Rapacious animals we hate ;
"Kites, hawks, and wolves, deserve their fate. "Do not we just abhorrence find
"Against the toad, and serpent kind:
"But envy, calumny, and spite,
"Bear stronger venom in their bite.
"Thus ev'ry object of création
"Can furnish hints to contemplation;
"And from the most minute and mean,
"A virtuous mind can morals glean.”
"Thy fame is just," the sage replies ;
"Thy virtue proves thee truly wise.
"Pride often guides the author's pen;
"Books affected are as men :
"But he who studies Nature's laws,
"From certain truth his maxims draws;
"And those, without our schools, suffice
“To make men moral, good, and wise."
ST. PHILIP NERI AND THE YOUTH.
Sr. Philip Neri, as old readings say,
Met a young stranger in Rome's streets one day; And being ever courteously inclin'd
To give young folks a sober turn of mind,
He fell into discourse with him; and thus
The dialogue they held comes down to us.
St.-Tell me what brings you, gentle youth, to Rome? Y.-To make myself a scholar, Sir, I come.
St.-And when you are one, what do
Y.-To be a priest, I hope, Sir, in the end.
St.-Suppose it so- -what have you next in view?
Y.-That I may get to be a canon too.
St.—Well; and how then?
Y.-Why then, for ought I know, I may be made a bishop.
St.-Be it so what then?
Y.-Why cardinal's a high degree
And yet my lot it possibly may be.
St.-Suppose it was-what then?
Y.-Why, who can say
But I've a chance of being pope one day? St.-Well, having worn the mitre, and red hat,
And triple crown, what follows after that?
Y.-Nay, there is nothing farther to be sure,
Upon this earth, that wishing can procure:
When I've enjoy'd a dignity so high,
As long as God shall please, then-
1 must die.
St.-What! must you die, fond youth? and at the best
But wish and hope and may be all the rest?
Take my advice-whatever may betide,
For that which must be, first of all provide ;
Then think of that which may be, and indeed,
When well prepared, who knows what may suc-
ceed?
But you may be, as you are pleased to hope,
Priest, canon, bishop, cardinal, and pope.
HYMN ON THE SEASONS.
THESE, as they change, Almighty Father! these
Are but the varied God. The rolling year
Is full of Thee. Forth in the pleasing spring
Thy beauty walks, thy tenderness and love.
Wide flush the fields; the softening air is balm;
Echo the mountains round; the forest smiles;
And every sense, and every heart is joy.
Then comes thy glory in the summer months,
With light and heat refulgent. Then thy sun
Shoots full perfection through the swelling year.
|