Richard one month had with his brother been, And had his guests, his friends, his favourites seen; Had heard the rector, who with decent force, But not of action, aided his discourse: “A moral teacher!” some, contemptuous, cried; } He smiled, but nothing of the fact denied, } Nor, save by his fair life, to charge so strong replied. } Still, though he bade them not on aught rely } That was their own, but all their worth deny, } They call’d his pure advice his cold morality; 10} And though he felt that earnestness and zeal, That made some portion of his hearers feel, Nay, though he loved the minds of men to lead To the great points that form the Christian’s creed, Still he offended; for he would discuss Points that to him seem’d requisite for us, And urge his flock to virtue, though he knew The very heathen taught the virtues too. Nor was this moral minister afraid To ask of inspiration’s self the aid 20 Of truths by him so sturdily maintain’d, That some confusion in the parish reign’d. “Heathens,” they said, “can tell us right from wrong, But to a Christian higher points belong.” Yet Jacques proceeded, void of fear and shame, In his old method, and obtain’d the name Of _Moral Preacher_—yet they all agreed, Whatever error had defiled his creed, His life was pure, and him they could commend, Not as their guide, indeed, but as their friend; 30 Truth, justice, pity, and a love of peace, Were his—but there must approbation cease; He either did not, or he would not see, That, if he meant a favourite priest to be, He must not show, but learn of them, the way To truth—he must not dictate, but obey. They wish’d him not to bring them further light, But to convince them that they now were right, And to assert that justice will condemn All who presumed to disagree with them. 40 In this he fail’d; and his the greater blame, For he persisted, void of fear or shame. Him Richard heard, and by his friendly aid Were pleasant views observed and visits paid; He to peculiar people found his way, And had his question answer’d, “Who are they?” Twice in the week came letters, and delight Beam’d in the eye of Richard at the sight: Letters of love, all full and running o’er; The paper fill’d till it could hold no more; 50 Cross’d with discolour’d ink, the doublings full— No fear that love should find abundance dull; Love reads unsated all that love inspires; When most indulged, indulgence still requires; Looks what the corners, what the crossings tell, And lifts each folding for a fond farewell. George saw and smiled—“To lovers we allow All this o’erflowing, but a husband thou! A father too; can time create no change? Married, and still so foolish?—very strange! 60 What of this wife or mistress is the art?”— } “The simple truth, my brother, to impart, }