I.
His studies o’er, his next discourse
Impromptu learnt by rote,
The rector rose, and doff’d a coarse
To don a finer coat.
II.
His silken hose with shining clocks
Which clothed each portly calf,
His shovel hat right orthodox,
And golden-headed staff,
III.
All spoke the doctor. On he strode:
Soon splash’d, he vow’d irate,
The sinner who survey’d the road
He’d excommunicate.
IV.
No! he’d indict his stubborn flock,
And shear their golden fleece.
Who, heeding much the parish stock,
Little Victoria’s peace,
V.
Rebellious lieges! mended not
The errors of their ways,
(Upon their pastor’s shoes a spot
Would shorten not their days!)
VI.
Thus he resolved; but cries invade
His Reverence’s ear!
Is it some damsel, who, afraid,
Sees men disguised in beer?
VII.
Or one the milky mothers meet
Emerging from the byre?
Who sees a snake beneath her feet?
Or waddling toad retire?
VIII.
Perplex’d, he hurries on the while,
But soon is seen to stand
Amazed: two ladies on a stile
Were seated hand in hand:
IX.
Young were they both, and fair to view,
Yet sorrow from their eyes
Tears, so the doctor fancied, drew:
He spoke, in grave surprise:
X.
“Issued those cries from ladies’ throats?
And what’s the reason? say.”
“How canst thou ask, when all denotes
The cause? this glorious day!”
XI.
“Thank God,” he cried, “the day is fine,
Yet why should that distress?
The glass is rising; to repine
Seems rude unthankfulness.”
XII.
“We are not understood, we see
With optics not like thine,
What canst thou know of poesy,
A middle-aged divine?
XIII.
“Was ever yet a poet known
To wear a white cravat?
A soul did ever mortal own
In a three-corner’d hat?
XIV.
“We could sit here and cry for hours,
Or shriek with sad delight;
The earth, sea, sky, sun, shade, and flowers,
Are agonising quite.
XV.
“To weep’s enjoyment half divine:
Unsavoury appears
To thee, a bibber of port wine,
The luxury of tears.
XVI.
“Farewell, farewell! we grieve for thee;”
(They cast a pitying glance,)
Doctor, thou hast no sympathy
With Creatures of Romance.”