Such cures are done when doctors know the case. “Oh! I shall die--my father! do receive My dying words; indeed, I do believe; 520 The books are lying books, I know it well, There is a devil, oh! there is a hell; And I’m a sinner: spare me, I am young, My sinful words were only on my tongue; My heart consented not; ’tis all a lie: Oh! spare me then, I’m not prepared to die.” “Vain, worthless, stupid wretch!” the father cried, “Dost thou presume to teach? art thou a guide? Driveller and dog, it gave the mind distress To hear thy thoughts in their religious dress; 530 Thy pious folly moved my strong disdain, Yet I forgave thee for thy want of brain. But Job in patience must the man exceed Who could endure thee in thy present creed; Is it for thee, thou idiot, to pretend The wicked cause a helping hand to lend? Canst thou a judge in any question be? Atheists themselves would scorn a friend like thee.-- “Lo! yonder blaze thy worthies; in one heap Thy scoundrel-favourites must for ever sleep: 540 Each yields its poison to the flame in turn, Where whores and infidels are doom’d to burn; Two noble faggots made the flame you see, Reserving only two fair twigs for thee; That in thy view the instruments may stand, And be in future ready for my hand: The just mementos that, though silent, show Whence thy correction and improvements flow; Beholding these, thou wilt confess their power, And feel the shame of this important hour. 550 “Hadst thou been humble, I had first design’d By care from folly to have freed thy mind; And, when a clean foundation had been laid, Our priest, more able, would have lent his aid. But thou art weak, and force must folly guide, And thou art vain, and pain must humble pride. Teachers men honour, learners they allure; } But learners teaching of contempt are sure; } Scorn is their certain meed, and smart their only cure!” } TALES OF THE HALL. TO HER GRACE THE DUCHESS OF RUTLAND MADAM,