E'en now, while walking down the rural lane,

He lopped the wayside lilies with his

cane.

From the Academy, whose belfry crowned

The Hill of Science with its vane of brass,

Came the Preceptor, gazing idly round,

Now at the clouds, and now at the

green grass,

And all absorbed in reveries profound

Of fair Almira in the upper class, Who was, as in a sonnet he had said, As pure as water, and as good as bread.

And next the Deacon issued from his door,

In his voluminous neck-cloth, white as snow;

A suit of sable bombazine he wore: His form was ponderous, and his step was slow;

There never was so wise a man be-
fore:

He seemed the incarnate "Well,
I told you so!"

And to perpetuate his great renown,

1 There was a street named after him in town.

These came together in the new

town-hall,

With sundry farmers from the region round:

The Squire presided, dignified and tall,

His air impressive and his reasoning sound.

Ill fared it with the birds, both great and small;

Hardly a friend in all that crowd they found,

But enemies enough, who every one Charged them with all the crimes beneath the sun.

When they had ended, from his place apart

Rose the Preceptor, to redress the wrong,

And, trembling like a steed before the start,

Looked round bewildered on the expectant throng;

For well thou know'st, 'tis not the extent

Of land makes life, but sweet con

tent.

When now the cock, the ploughman's horne,

Calls forth the lily-wristed morne; Then to thy cornfields thou dost go, Which, though well soyl'd, yet thou dost know,

That the best compost for the lands Is the wise master's feet and hands: There at the plough thou find ́st thy teame,

With a hind whistling there to them; And cheer'st them up, by singing how

The kingdom's portion is the plough; This done, then to the enameled meads

Thou go'st, and as thy foot there treads,

Thou seest a present godlike power Imprinted in each herbe and flower; And smell'st the breath of great-eyed