Nor rack'd his tenants with increase of rent;
Nor liv'd too sparing, nor too largely spent ;
But overlook'd his Hinds--their pay was just, 920
And ready, for he scorn'd to go on trust:
Slow to resolve, but in performance quick;
So true, that he was aukward at a trick.
For little souls on little shifts rely,
And cowards arts of mean expedients try; The noble mind will dare do any thing but lie. False friends, his deadliest foes, could find no way, But shows of honest bluntness to betray; That unsuspected plainness he believ'd; He look'd into himself and was deceiv'd. Some lucky planet sure attends his birth, Or Heav'n would make a miracle on earth; For prosp'rous honesty is seldom seen To bear so dead a weight, and yet to win. It looks as Fate with Nature's law would strive, To shew plain-dealing once an age may thrive; And, when so tough a frame she could not bend, Exceeded her commission to befriend.
This grateful man as Heav'n increas'd his store,
Gave God again, and daily fed his poor.
His house with all convenience was purvey'd;
The rest he found,-but rais'd the fabric where
he pray'd;
And, in that sacred place. his beateous wife
Employ'd her happiest hours of holy life.
Nor did their alms extend to those alone,
Whom common faith more strictly made their own;
A sort of Doves were hous'd too near their hall,
Who cross the proverb, and abound with gall.
Tho' some, 'tis true, are passively inclin'd,
The greater part degen'rate from their kind; 950
Voracious birds, that hotly bill and breed,
And largely drink, because on salt they feed.
Small gain from them their bounteous owner
draws;
Yet bound by promise, he supports their cause,
As corporations privileg'd by laws.
That house, which harbour to their kind affords,
Was built, long since, God knows for better birds;
But, flutt'ring, there they nestle near the throne,
And lodge in habitations not their own. 959
By their high crops and corny gizzards known.
Like harpies, they could scent a plenteous board;
Then, to be sure, they never fail'd their lord;
The rest was form, and bare attendance paid;
They drank, and ate, and grudgingly obey'd.
The more they fed they raven'd still for more ;
They drain'd from Dan, and left Beersheba poor.
All this they had by law, and none repin'd;
The pref'rence was but due to Levi's kind;
But when some lay preferment fell by chance,
The Gourmands made it their inheritance.
When once possess'd, they never quit their claim,
For then 'tis sanctify'd to heav'n's high name;
And, hallow'd thus, they cannot give consent
The gifts should be profan'd by worldly manage-
Their flesh was never to the table serv'd; Tho' 'tis not thence inferr'd the birds were starv'd; But that their master did not like the food, As rank, and breeding melancholy blood: Nor did it with his gracious nature suit, E'en though they were not Doves, to persecute : Yet he refus'd; (nor could they take offence Their glutton kind should teach him abstinence ;) Nor consecrated grain their wheat be thought, Which, new from treading, in their bills they brought;
But left his hinds, each in his private pow'r,
That those who like the bran, might leave the flour.
He for himself, and not for others, chose,
Nor would he be impos'd on, nor impose;
But, in their faces, his devotion paid,
And sacrifice, with solemn rites, was made,
And sacred incense on his altars laid.
Besides these jolly birds, whose corps impure
Repaid their commons with their salt manure,
Another farm he had behind his house,
Not overstock'd, but barely for his use;
Wherein his poor domestic poultry fed,
And, from his pious hands, receiv'd their bread;
Our pamper'd pigeons, with malignant eyes,
Beheld these inmates and their nurseries;
Tho' hard their fare, at ev'ning and at morn,
A cruise of water, and an ear of corn;
Yet still they grudg'd that modicum, and thought
A sheaf, in ev'ry single grain, was brought.
Fain would they filch that little food away,
While unrestrain'd those happy gluttons prey.
And much they griev'd to see, so nigh their hall,
The bird that warn'd St. Peter of his fall;
That he should raise his mitred crest on high,
And clap his wings, and call his family 1010
To sacred rites; and vex th' etherial pow'rs
With midnight matins at uncivil hours;
Nay more, his quiet neighbours should molest,
Just in the sweetness of their morning rest.
Beast of a bird, supinely when he might
Lie snug and sleep, to rise hefore the light!
What if his dull forefathers us'd that cry,
Could he not let a bad example die ?
The world was fall'n into an easier way;
This age knew better than to fast and pray. 1020
Good sense, in sacred worship, would appear
So to begin, as they might end the year.
Such feats in former times had wrought the falls
Of growing Chanticleers in cloister'd walls.
Expell'd for this, and for their lands, they fled;
And sister Partlet with her hooded head
Was hooted hence, because she would not pray
a-bed.
The way to win the restive world to God,
Was to lay by the disciplining rod,
Unnatʼral fasts, and foreign forms of pray'r: 1030
Religion frights us with a mien severe :
"Tis prudence to reform her into ease,
And put her in undress to make her please:
A lively faith will bear aloft the mind,
And leave the luggage of good works behind. s
Such doctrines in the Pigeon-house were taught;
You need not ask how wondrously they wrought;
But, sure, the common cry was all for these,
Whose life and precepts, both, encourag'd ease;
Yet fearing those alluring baits might fail, 1040
And holy deeds o'er all their arts prevail,
(For vice, though frontless, and of harden'd face,
Is daunted at the sight of awful grace)
An hideous figure of their foes they drew,
Nor lines, nor looks, nor shades, nor colours
And this grotesque design expos'd to public view.
One would have thought it some Egyptian piece,
With garden gods, and barking deities,
More thick than Ptolemy has stuck the skies.
All, so perverse a draught, so far unlike,
It was no libel where it meant to strike.
Yet still the daubing pleas'd, and great and small
To view the monster crowded Pigeon-hall:
There Chanticleer was drawn upon his knees,
Adoring shrines, and stocks of sainted trees?
And, by him, a mis-shapen, ugly, race;
The curse of God was seen on ev'ry face:
No Holland emblem could that malice mend,
But still the worse the look, the fitter for a fiend.
The master of the farm, displeas'd to find
So much of rancour in sơ mild' a kind,
DRYDEN. VOL. III. D
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