'Tis true, she said, I think it somewhat strange, So few should follow profitable change; For present joys are more to flesh and blood, Than a dull prospect of a distant good. 'Twas well alluded by a son of mine, (I hope to quote him is not to purloin,) Two magnets, heaven and earth, allure to bliss; The larger loadstone that, the nearer this: The weak attraction of the greater fails; We nod a while, but neighbourhood prevails; But when the greater proves the nearer too, I wonder more your converts come so slow. Methinks in those who firm with me remain, It shows a nobler principle than gain.-- Your inference would be strong, the Hind replied, If yours were in effect the suffering side; Your clergy's sons their own in peace possess, Nor are their prospects in reversion less. My proselytes are struck with awful dread, Your bloody comet-laws hang blazing o'er their head; The respite they enjoy but only lent, The best they have to hope, protracted punishment.[207] Be judge yourself, if interest may prevail, Which motives, yours or mine, will turn the scale. While pride and pomp allure, and plenteous ease,} That is, till man's predominant passions cease, } Admire no longer at my slow increase. } By education most have been misled; So they believe, because they so were bred. The priest continues what the nurse began, And thus the child imposes on the man. The rest I named before, nor need repeat; But interest is the most prevailing cheat, The sly seducer both of age and youth; They study that, and think they study truth. When interest fortifies an argument, } Weak reason serves to gain the will's assent; } For souls, already warped, receive an easy bent.} Add long prescription of established laws, And pique of honour to maintain a cause, And shame of change, and fear of future ill, And zeal, the blind conductor of the will; And chief, among the still-mistaking crowd, } The fame of teachers obstinate and proud, } And, more than all, the private judge allowed;} Disdain of fathers which the dance began, } And last, uncertain whose the narrower span,} The clown unread, and half-read gentleman.--} To this the Panther, with a scornful smile;-- Yet still you travel with unwearied toil, And range around the realm without controul,} Among my sons for proselytes to prowl; } And here and there you snap some silly soul.} You hinted fears of future change in state; Pray heaven you did not prophesy your fate! Perhaps, you think your time of triumph near, } But may mistake the season of the year; } The Swallow's fortune gives you cause to fear.--[208]} For charity, replied the matron, tell What sad mischance those pretty birds befel.--