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The Works of John Hall-Stevenson

... Corrected and Enlarged. With Several Original Poems, Now First Printed, and Explanatory Notes. In Three Volumes

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EPITAPH UPON A RECTOR.
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
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179

EPITAPH UPON A RECTOR.

[_]

TRANSLATED.

He whom no house, no haunt could hold,
Wand'ring like wolves from fold to fold,
Who made each house each hill and dale,
Both an asylum and a jail,
Laid by the heels and caught at last,
Is here confined in durance fast,
By land for ever, on the hoof,
By water, always water-proof.
Jocky, groom, sailor, first of jokers,
And legislator amongst smokers.
Like Moses, wrapt in clouds of smoke,
He laid down laws to hearts of oak;
A sportsman keen by land and water,
Yet never took delight in slaughter;
A fisher, like the pope, of fish,
Who never caught one single dish.
Tender to game of every sort
He shed no harmless blood in sport;

181

No plaintive widow of the wood
Mourn'd for her mate or infant-brood.
Venatic saviour, most deserving,
Not for destroying but preserving.
Not more renown'd for song and pipe
Than for a powerful fist and gripe.
He set the spoiler in the stocks,
And fell'd the poacher like an ox.
Chief of the music of the steeple
A poet amongst tuneful people,
A scribe that never miss'd a mail,
Whose letters flew as thick as hail,
That like the Sybils leaves in air,
He threw at random every where.
All his pursuits were much the same,
Much expectation, and no game:
Like father Time for ever moving,
Never improved, always improving.
All mortals that are made of clay
Proceed exactly on his way.
As anxious children waiting stand,
Then slily creep, with salt in hand,

183

To catch hedge-sparrows, larks, or quails,
If they can lay salt on their tails.
Even so, our measures, schemes, and cares,
Are oft as weak and vain as theirs.
Amongst us all, alas, how few
Have skill to catch what we pursue.
Cetera desunt.