When Hope (t’ indulge a short digression) Gains of weak minds complete possession, She buoys them up, like cork and sail, ’Gainst Disappointment’s heavy gale. So Whang, with undishearten’d mind, Trusting the _future_ would be kind, Rose from his dreamless bed next morn Neither discourag’d nor forlorn: With one idea fill’d, he sought His mill, but little there he wrought. Week follow’d week, and months the same, Whang slept indeed, but could not dream; Yet, prescient still of his success, His industry grew less and less. He thought it wrong in him to labour, Who, by and by, might, like his neighbour, Receive the happy wish’d-for warning, And wake to thousands in the morning! It was amusing to observe His solemn pomp, his proud reserve, His sad exchange of glee, for state, That ill-beseem’d his rustic gait. His temper open, far from vicious, Chang’d too—for he was grown ambitious. He, that so early erst was seen With active step to cross the green, Now slept, supinely slept away The prime, the golden hours of day. The sun shot down his highest beam Upon th’ unprofitable stream; Whang’s duty bade him sleep and dream. I will not say but Whang was born With sense enough to grind his corn, Or on a market-day to tell Whether ’twere good to buy or sell; But since the store his neighbour found, I dare not say his wits were sound. In sad neglect the mill-wheel stood That long supplied his daily food; And marvelling neighbours shook the head, Amaz’d the Miller’s glee was fled. Some thought his conscience overcast Was but a judgment for the _past_. Old Robin with a wink could tell That “Whang had manag’d matters well; He shrewdly guess’d how things would end, For gain, ill-gotten, would not spend.” And Gammer Gabble _now_ could prate That her “last sack had wanted weight.” _She_ “knew the Miller long ago, And wonder’d _others_ did not know.” So all most prudently prepare To trust their grain to better care. Thus, by degrees the stores declin’d, Till Whang had scarce a batch to grind. No matter! Hope still talk’d the more About his unfound hidden store: But inauspicious yet appear’d His wish; no warning voice was heard. Now Mistress Whang, of nature humble, Had smil’d to hear her husband grumble, And would admonish him, ’tis said, To chase vain phantoms from his head. She, more incredulous, insisted His visions ought to be resisted; Thought they had chang’d his very nature, And sourly curl’d each homely feature: She felt full dearly they bestood Sad substitutes for wholesome food.