Have for an instant felt the insidious snare; And caught my sinful eyes at the endang'ring stars; Till I was forced to smite my bounding breast With forceful blow, and bid the bold-one rest. "Go not with crowds when they to pleasure run, But public joy in private safety shun: When bells, diverted from their true intent, Ring loud for some deluded mortal sent To hear or make long speech in parliament; What time the many, that unruly beast, Roars its rough joy and shares the final feast? Then heed my counsel, shut thine ears and eyes; A few will hear me--for the few are wise." Not Satan's friends, nor Satan's self could bear, The cautious man who took of souls such care; An interloper,--one who, out of place, Had volunteered upon the side of grace: There was his master ready once a week To give advice; what further need he seek? "Amen, so be it:"--what had he to do With more than this?--'twas insolent and new; And some determined on a way to see How frail he was, that so it might not be. First they essay'd to tempt our saint to sin, By points of doctrine argued at an inn; Where he might warmly reason, deeply drink, Then lose all power to argue and to think. In vain they tried; he took the question up, Clear'd every doubt, and barely touch'd the cup: By many a text he proved his doctrine sound, And look'd in triumph on the tempters round. Next 'twas their care an artful lass to find, Who might consult him, as perplex'd in mind; She they conceived might put her case with fears, With tender tremblings and seducing tears; She might such charms of various kind display, That he would feel their force and melt away: For why of nymphs such caution and such dread, Unless he felt, and fear'd to be misled? She came, she spake: he calmly heard her case, And plainly told her 'twas a want of grace; Bade her "such fancies and affections check, And wear a thicker muslin on her neck." Abased, his human foes the combat fled, And the stern clerk yet higher held his head. They were indeed a weak, impatient set, But their shrewd prompter had his engines yet; Had various means to make a mortal trip, Who shunn'd a flowing bowl and rosy lip; And knew a thousand ways his heart to move, Who flies from banquets and who laughs at love. Thus far the playful Muse has lent her aid, But now departs, of graver theme afraid; Her may we seek in more appropriate time, - There is no jesting with distress and crime. Our worthy Clerk had now arrived at fame, Such as but few in his degree might claim; But he was poor, and wanted not the sense That lowly rates the praise without the pence: He saw the common herd with reverence treat The weakest burgess whom they chanced to meet; While few respected his exalted views, And all beheld his doublet and his shoes: None, when they meet, would to his parts allow (Save his poor boys) a hearing or a bow: To this false judgment of the vulgar mind, He was not fully, as a saint, resign'd;