Our prince took not the goldsmith’s life through lust. Chase such suspicion from thy mind thou must. Imagine not he’d stoop to mortal sin. Can holy saint have tainted heart within? The trial of the fire, and of the flame, Is but to cleanse pure gold from every blame. 205 So too, temptation on us all is sent, To part the good from those of bad intent. Had he not acted thus by God’s command, No prince, a wolf he’d been, rav’ning the land. From lust, greed, foul caprice, his soul was free; So did God will, whate’er the cause may be. Elias sank his ship in full design;[69] That wreck to future blessings was the sign. Moses was shock’d thereat, with all his skill And inspiration. Thou must needs judge ill. 210 A blood-red rose call not by murder’s name; Just retribution see thou do not blame. Had righteous blood been shed by him as naught, Blasphemer were I to extol him aught. Praise of the wicked God with horror views; The good contemn all flatterers of sin’s crews. Our prince was kind and virtuous, wise and just, A man God-fearing, and in God’s full trust. A victim put to death by such a friend, Is slain in error, or for some wise end. 215 Did not our God mean mercy in His wrath, How could the Lord of Mercies thunder forth? A child may tremble at the lancet’s smart; His mother knows there’s healing in the dart. It may half kill him, but restores sound life; So God’s great mercies far surpass our strife. Men judge of what they see by what they think. From judging justice, men of sense will shrink. 219 II. The Oilman and the Parrot. An oilman there was, who a parrot possessed, Soft-voiced, and green-coated; could talk with the best. The oilshop her charge when the man was away; The customers coaxed she the whole live-long day. Her speech was quite human, her words full of sense, In all parrot-tricks she was void of offence. One day the man popped out, on bus’ness intent; The parrot, as usual, had charge while he went. A cat, as it chanced, of a mouse in full chase Bounced into the shop. This poor Poll could not face. 5 From perch away flew she; took refuge on shelf; Some jars she knocked over; the oil spread itself. The master returning, first sat himself down, As lord of the manor; the shop was his own. The oil-pools he spied, and then Polly’s wet coat; A blow on the head made her feathers drop out.