Yet his remarks were often shrewd and keen; 50 Taught not by books t’ approve or to condemn, He gain’d but little that he knew from them; He read with reverence and respect the few, Whence he his rules and consolations drew; But men and beasts, and all that lived or moved, Were books to him; he studied them and loved. “He knew the plants in mountain, wood, or mead; He knew the worms that on the foliage feed; Knew the small tribes that ’scape the careless eye, The plant’s disease that breeds the embryo-fly; 60 And the small creatures who on bark or bough Enjoy their changes, changed we know not how; But now th’ imperfect being scarcely moves, And now takes wing and seeks the sky it loves. “He had no system, and forbore to read The learned labours of th’ immortal Swede; But smiled to hear the creatures he had known So long, were now in class and order shown, Genus and species--‘is it meet,’ said he, ‘This creature’s name should one so sounding be? 70 Tis but a fly, though first-born of the spring-- Bombylius majus, dost thou call the thing? Majus, indeed! and yet, in fact, ’tis true, } We all are majors, all are minors too, } Except the first and last--th’ immensely distant two. } And here again--what call the learned this? Both Hippobosca and Hirundinis? Methinks the creature should be proud to find That he employs the talents of mankind; And that his sovereign master shrewdly looks, 80 Counts all his parts, and puts them in his books. Well! go thy way, for I do feel it shame To stay a being with so proud a name.’ “Such were his daughters, such my quiet friend, And pleasant was it thus my days to spend; But when Matilda at her home I saw, Whom I beheld with anxiousness and awe, The ease and quiet that I found before At once departed, and return’d no more. No more their music soothed me as they play’d, 90 But soon her words a strong impression made: The sweet enthusiast, so I deem’d her, took My mind, and fix’d it to her speech and look; My soul, dear girl! she made her constant care, } But never whisper’d to my heart ‘beware!’ } In love no dangers rise till we are in the snare. } Her father sometimes question’d of my creed, And seem’d to think it might amendment need; But great the difference when the pious maid To the same errors her attention paid: 100 Her sole design that I should think aright, And my conversion her supreme delight. Pure was her mind, and simple her intent, Good all she sought, and kindness all she meant. Next to religion friendship was our theme, Related souls and their refined esteem. We talk’d of scenes where this is real found, And love subsists without a dart or wound;