The Canterbury Tales of Chaucer modernis'd by several hands. Publsh'd by Mr. Oggle |
 | I. |
|
THE Clerk or Scholar of Oxford. |
| II. |
| III. |
 | The Canterbury Tales of Chaucer |  |
THE Clerk or Scholar of Oxford.
By Mr. OGLE.
A Clerk of Oxford next appear'd in Sight,
Who spent on Logic many a Day and Night.
Lank as a Rake, the Steed on which He sat;
And, sooth to say, the Man was nothing fat.
Of Aspect sober, as of Body lean;
Effect of Contemplation more than Spleen.
Hollow his Vest, and thread-bare was his Coat,
A Youth of Worth, He look'd, tho' not of Note.
For He, nor Benefice had got, nor Cure,
No Patron, yet so worldly, to insure!
So dextrous yet, of Body, or of Face,
To circumvent no Chaplain, with his Grace:
Nor fulsome Dedication cou'd he write!
Drudge for a Dame, or pander for a Knight!
Much rather had he range, beside his Bed,
A Score of Authors unadorn'd in Red,
With Aristotle, Champion of the Schools;
To mend his Ways, by Philosophic Rules:
Than basely to a Vic'rage owe his Rise,
By Courting Folly, or by Flatt'ring Vice;
Than flourish like a Prebend in his Stall:
That Way, he held, was not to rise, but fall.
Nor wou'd he be the Man, for all his Rent;
Nam'd you the Priest of Bray, or Priest of Trent!
Who spent on Logic many a Day and Night.
Lank as a Rake, the Steed on which He sat;
And, sooth to say, the Man was nothing fat.
Of Aspect sober, as of Body lean;
Effect of Contemplation more than Spleen.
Hollow his Vest, and thread-bare was his Coat,
A Youth of Worth, He look'd, tho' not of Note.
For He, nor Benefice had got, nor Cure,
No Patron, yet so worldly, to insure!
17
To circumvent no Chaplain, with his Grace:
Nor fulsome Dedication cou'd he write!
Drudge for a Dame, or pander for a Knight!
Much rather had he range, beside his Bed,
A Score of Authors unadorn'd in Red,
With Aristotle, Champion of the Schools;
To mend his Ways, by Philosophic Rules:
Than basely to a Vic'rage owe his Rise,
By Courting Folly, or by Flatt'ring Vice;
Than flourish like a Prebend in his Stall:
That Way, he held, was not to rise, but fall.
Nor wou'd he be the Man, for all his Rent;
Nam'd you the Priest of Bray, or Priest of Trent!
One Search of Science, he forgot alone;
An useful Search! the Philosophic Stone!
Hence, tho' his Head much learned Wealth might hold;
Yet held he, in his Coffer, little Gold.
And late, that Stock, a Foreign Journey drain'd,
Curious to see, what yet of Rome remain'd.
Not, to the Dead, that he confin'd his Looks,
The Living he could read, and Men with Books;
Yet most on Books, what he acquires, he spends,
From Care of Parents, or from Love of Friends!
And these, unbound, or bound, his Chambers strow,
A choice Collection, bought for Use, not Show!
There oft, in Secret, pray'd the grateful Youth,
For those, that put him in the Way of Truth;
That gave the Means, just Precepts to instill;
Or taught him to distinguish Good from Ill.
Thus grounded well, he study'd to proceed;
And not a Word spoke more than there was need.
'Twas short or close, sententious or sublime,
And urg'd with Modesty, and said in Time.
For to instruct, he rather wish'd, than strove,
Willing to be improv'd, or to improve!
Still turn'd to moral Virtue was his Speech,
And gladly wou'd he learn, and gladly teach.
An useful Search! the Philosophic Stone!
Hence, tho' his Head much learned Wealth might hold;
Yet held he, in his Coffer, little Gold.
And late, that Stock, a Foreign Journey drain'd,
Curious to see, what yet of Rome remain'd.
18
The Living he could read, and Men with Books;
Yet most on Books, what he acquires, he spends,
From Care of Parents, or from Love of Friends!
And these, unbound, or bound, his Chambers strow,
A choice Collection, bought for Use, not Show!
There oft, in Secret, pray'd the grateful Youth,
For those, that put him in the Way of Truth;
That gave the Means, just Precepts to instill;
Or taught him to distinguish Good from Ill.
Thus grounded well, he study'd to proceed;
And not a Word spoke more than there was need.
'Twas short or close, sententious or sublime,
And urg'd with Modesty, and said in Time.
For to instruct, he rather wish'd, than strove,
Willing to be improv'd, or to improve!
Still turn'd to moral Virtue was his Speech,
And gladly wou'd he learn, and gladly teach.
| The Canterbury Tales of Chaucer | |