All are not such. I had a brother once— Peace to the memory of a man of worth, A man of letters and of manners too— Of manners sweet as virtue always wears, When gay good-nature dresses her in smiles. He graced a college in which order yet Was sacred, and was honoured, loved, and wept, By more than one, themselves conspicuous there. Some minds are tempered happily, and mixt With such ingredients of good sense and taste Of what is excellent in man, they thirst With such a zeal to be what they approve, That no restraints can circumscribe them more Than they themselves by choice, for wisdom’s sake. Nor can example hurt them. What they see Of vice in others but enhancing more The charms of virtue in their just esteem. If such escape contagion, and emerge Pure, from so foul a pool, to shine abroad, And give the world their talents and themselves, Small thanks to those whose negligence or sloth Exposed their inexperience to the snare, And left them to an undirected choice. See, then, the quiver broken and decayed, In which are kept our arrows. Rusting there In wild disorder and unfit for use, What wonder if discharged into the world They shame their shooters with a random flight, Their points obtuse and feathers drunk with wine. Well may the Church wage unsuccessful war With such artillery armed. Vice parries wide The undreaded volley with a sword of straw, And stands an impudent and fearless mark. Have we not tracked the felon home, and found His birthplace and his dam? The country mourns— Mourns, because every plague that can infest Society, that saps and worms the base Of the edifice that Policy has raised, Swarms in all quarters; meets the eye, the ear, And suffocates the breath at every turn. Profusion breeds them. And the cause itself Of that calamitous mischief has been found, Found, too, where most offensive, in the skirts Of the robed pedagogue. Else, let the arraigned Stand up unconscious and refute the charge. So, when the Jewish leader stretched his arm And waved his rod divine, a race obscene, Spawned in the muddy beds of Nile, came forth Polluting Egypt. Gardens, fields, and plains Were covered with the pest. The streets were filled; The croaking nuisance lurked in every nook, Nor palaces nor even chambers ’scaped, And the land stank, so numerous was the fry. BOOK III. THE GARDEN.