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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=395902" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Tale XV</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">ADVICE; OR THE 'SQUIRE AND THE PRIEST.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">A wealthy Lord of far-extended land<br>Had all that pleased him placed at his command;<br>Widow'd of late, but finding much relief<br>In the world's comforts, he dismiss'd his grief;<br>He was by marriage of his daughters eased,<br>And knew his sons could marry if they pleased;<br>Meantime in travel he indulged the boys,<br>And kept no spy nor partner of his joys.<br>These joys, indeed, were of the grosser kind,<br>That fed the cravings of an earthly mind;<br>A mind that, conscious of its own excess,<br>Felt the reproach his neighbours would express.<br>Long at th' indulgent board he loved to sit,<br>Where joy was laughter, and profaneness wit;<br>And such the guest and manners of the hall,<br>No wedded lady on the 'Squire would call:<br>Here reign'd a Favourite, and her triumph gain'd<br>O'er other favourites who before had reign'd;<br>Reserved and modest seemed the nymph to be,<br>Knowing her lord was charm'd with modesty;<br>For he, a sportsman keen, the more enjoy'd,<br>The greater value had the thing destroyed.<br>Our 'Squire declared, that from a wife released,<br>He would no more give trouble to a Priest;<br>Seem'd it not, then, ungrateful and unkind<br>That he should trouble from the priesthood find?<br>The Church he honour'd, and he gave the due<br>And full respect to every son he knew;<br>But envied those who had the luck to meet<br>A gentle pastor, civil and discreet;<br>Who never bold and hostile sermon penned,<br>To wound a sinner, or to shame a friend;<br>One whom no being either shunn'd or fear'd:<br>Such must be loved wherever they appear'd.<br>Not such the stern old Rector of the time,<br>Who soothed no culprit, and who spared no crime;<br>Who would his fears and his contempt express<br>For irreligion and licentiousness;<br>Of him our Village Lord, his guests among,<br>By speech vindictive proved his feelings stung.<br>'Were he a bigot,' said the 'Squire, 'whose zeal<br>Condemn'd us all, I should disdain to feel:<br>But when a man of parts, in college train'd,<br>Prates of our conduct, who would not be pain'd?<br>While he declaims (where no one dares reply)<br>On men abandon'd, grov'ling in the sty<br>(Like beasts in human shape) of shameless luxury.<br>Yet with a patriot's zeal I stand the shock<br>Of vile rebuke, example to his flock:<br>But let this Rector, thus severe and proud,<br>Change his wide surplice for a narrow shroud,<br>And I will place within his seat a youth,<br>Train'd by the Graces to explain the Truth;<br>Then shall the flock with gentle hand be led,<br>By wisdom won, and by compassion fed.'<br>This purposed Teacher was a sister's son,<br>Who of her children gave the priesthood one;<br>And she had early train'd for this employ<br>The pliant talents of her college-boy:<br>At various times her letters painted all<br>Her brother's views--the manners of the Hall;<br>The rector's harshness, and the mischief made<br>By chiding those whom preachers should persuade:<br>This led the youth to views of easy life,<br>A friendly patron, an obliging wife;<br>His tithe, his glebe, the garden, and the steed,<br>With books as many as he wish'd to read.<br>All this accorded with the Uncle's will:<br>He loved a priest compliant, easy, still;<br>Sums he had often to his favourite sent,<br>'To be,' he wrote, 'in manly freedom spent;<br>For well it pleased his spirit to assist<br>An honest lad, who scorn'd a Methodist.'<br>His mother, too, in her maternal care,<br>Bade him of canting hypocrites beware:<br>Who from his duties would his heart seduce,<br>And make his talents of no earthly use.<br>Soon must a trial of his worth be made -<br>The ancient priest is to the tomb convey'd;<br>And the Youth summon'd from a serious friend,<br>His guide and host, new duties to attend.<br>Three months before, the nephew and the 'Squire<br>Saw mutual worth to praise and to admire;<br>And though the one too early left his wine,<br>The other still exclaim'd--'My boy will shine:<br>Yes, I perceive that he will soon improve,<br>And I shall form the very guide I love;<br>Decent abroad, he will my name defend,<br>And when at home, be social and unbend.'<br>The plan was specious, for the mind of James<br>Accorded duly with his uncle's schemes;<br>He then aspired not to a higher name<br>Than sober clerks of moderate talents claim;<br>Gravely to pray, and rev'rendly to preach,<br>Was all he saw, good youth! within his reach:<br>Thus may a mass of sulphur long abide,<br>Cold and inert, but, to the flame applied,<br>Kindling it blazes, and consuming turns<br>To smoke and poison, as it boils and burns.<br>James, leaving college, to a Preacher stray'd;<br>What call'd he knew not--but the call obey'd;<br>Mild, idle, pensive, ever led by those<br>Who could some specious novelty propose;<br>Humbly he listen'd, while the preacher dwelt<br>On touching themes, and strong emotions felt;<br>And in this night was fix'd that pliant will<br>To one sole point, and he retains it still.<br>At first his care was to himself confined;<br>Himself assured, he gave it to mankind:<br>His zeal grew active--honest, earnest zeal,<br>And comfort dealt to him, he long'd to deal;<br>He to his favourite preacher now withdrew,<br>Was taught to teach, instructed to subdue,<br>And train'd for ghostly warfare, when the call<br>Of his new duties reach'd him from the Hall.<br>Now to the 'Squire, although alert and stout,<br>Came unexpected an attack of gout;<br>And the grieved patron felt such serious pain,<br>He never thought to see a church again:<br>Thrice had the youthful rector taught the crowd,<br>Whose growing numbers spoke his powers aloud,<br>Before the patron could himself rejoice<br>(His pain still lingering) in the general voice;<br>For he imputed all this early fame<br>To graceful manner and the well-known name;<br>And to himself assumed a share of praise,<br>For worth and talents he was pleased to raise.<br>A month had flown, and with it fled disease;<br>What pleased before, began again to please;<br>Emerging daily from his chamber's gloom,<br>He found his old sensations hurrying home;<br>Then call'd his nephew, and exclaim'd, 'My boy,<br>Let us again the balm of life enjoy;<br>The foe has left me, and I deem it right,<br>Should he return, to arm me for the fight.'<br>Thus spoke the 'Squire, the favourite nymph </div><div style="margin:10px 0">stood by,<br>And view'd the priest with insult in her eye;<br>She thrice had heard him when he boldly spoke<br>On dangerous points, and fear'd he would revoke:<br>For James she ioved not--and her manner told,<br>'This warm affection will be quickly cold:'<br>And still she fear'd impression might be made<br>Upon a subject nervous and decay'd;<br>She knew her danger, and had no desire<br>Of reformation in the gallant 'Squire;<br>And felt an envious pleasure in her breast<br>To see the rector daunted and distress'd.<br>Again the Uncle to the youth applied -<br>'Cast, my dear lad, that cursed gloom aside:<br>There are for all things time and place; appear<br>Grave in your pulpit, and be merry here:<br>Now take your wine--for woes a sure resource,<br>And the best prelude to a long discourse.'<br>James half obey'd, but cast an angry eye<br>On the fair lass, who still stood watchful by;<br>Resolving thus, 'I have my fears--but still<br>I must perform my duties, and I will:<br>No love, no interest, shall my mind control;<br>Better to lose my comforts than my soul;<br>Better my uncle's favour to abjure,<br>Than the upbraidings of my heart endure.'<br>He took his glass, and then address'd the </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Squire:<br>'I feel not well, permit me to retire.'<br>The 'Squire conceived that the ensuing day<br>Gave him these terrors for the grand essay,<br>When he himself should this young preacher try,<br>And stand before him with observant eye;<br>This raised compassion in his manly breast,<br>And he would send the rector to his rest;<br>Yet first, in soothing voice--'A moment stay,<br>And these suggestions of a friend obey;<br>Treasure these hints, if fame or peace you prize, -<br>The bottle emptied, I shall close my eyes.<br>'On every priest a twofold care attends,<br>To prove his talents, and insure his friends:<br>First, of the first--your stores at once produce;<br>And bring your reading to its proper use:<br>On doctrines dwell, and every point enforce<br>By quoting much, the scholar's sure resource;<br>For he alone can show us on each head<br>What ancient schoolmen and sage fathers said.<br>No worth has knowledge, if you fail to show<br>How well you studied and how much you know:<br>Is faith your subject, and you judge it right<br>On theme so dark to cast a ray of light,<br>Be it that faith the orthodox maintain,<br>Found in the rubric, what the creeds explain;<br>Fail not to show us on this ancient faith<br>(And quote the passage) what some martyr saith:<br>Dwell not one moment on a faith that shocks<br>The minds of men sincere and orthodox;<br>That gloomy faith, that robs the wounded mind<br>Of all the comfort it was wont to find<br>From virtuous acts, and to the soul denies<br>Its proper due for alms and charities;<br>That partial faith, that, weighing sins alone,<br>Lets not a virtue for a fault atone;<br>That partial faith, that would our tables clear,<br>And make one dreadful Lent of all the year;<br>And cruel too, for this is faith that rends<br>Confiding beauties from protecting friends;<br>A faith that all embracing, what a gloom<br>Deep and terrific o'er the land would come!<br>What scenes of horror would that time disclose!<br>No sight but misery, and no sound but woes;<br>Your nobler faith, in loftier style convey'd,<br>Shall be with praise and admiration paid:<br>On points like these your hearers all admire<br>A preacher's depth, and nothing more require.<br>Shall we a studious youth to college send,<br>That every clown his words may comprehend?<br>'Tis for your glory, when your hearers own<br>Your learning matchless, but the sense unknown.<br>'Thus honour gain'd, learn now to gain a friend,<br>And the sure way is--never to offend;<br>For, James, consider--what your neighbours do<br>Is their own business, and concerns not you:<br>Shun all resemblance to that forward race<br>Who preach of sins before a sinner's face;<br>And seem as if they overlook'd a pew,<br>Only to drag a failing man in view:<br>Much should I feel, when groaning in disease,<br>If a rough hand upon my limb should seize;<br>But great my anger, if this hand were found<br>The very doctor's who should make it sound:<br>So feel our minds, young Priest, so doubly feel,<br>When hurt by those whose office is to heal.<br>'Yet of our duties you must something tell,<br>And must at times on sin and frailty dwell;<br>Here you may preach in easy, flowing style,<br>How errors cloud us, and how sins defile:<br>Here bring persuasive tropes and figures forth,<br>To show the poor that wealth is nothing worth;<br>That they, in fact, possess an ample share<br>Of the world's good, and feel not half its care:<br>Give them this comfort, and, indeed, my gout<br>In its full vigour causes me some doubt;<br>And let it always, for your zeal, suffice<br>That vice you combat, in the abstract--vice:<br>The very captious will be quiet then;<br>We all confess we are offending men:<br>In lashing sin, of every stroke beware,<br>For sinners feel, and sinners you must spare;<br>In general satire, every man perceives<br>A slight attack, yet neither fears nor grieves;<br>But name th' offence, and you absolve the rest,<br>And point the dagger at a single breast.<br>'Yet are there sinners of a class so low,<br>That you with safety may the lash bestow;<br>Poachers, and drunkards, idle rogues, who feed<br>At others' cost, a mark'd correction need:<br>And all the better sort, who see your zeal,<br>Will love and reverence for their pastor feel;<br>Reverence for one who can inflict the smart,<br>And love, because he deals them not a part.<br>'Remember well what love and age advise:<br>A quiet rector is a parish prize,<br>Who in his learning has a decent pride;<br>Who to his people is a gentle guide;<br>Who only hints at failings that he sees;<br>Who loves his glebe, his patron, and his ease,<br>And finds the way to fame and profit is to please.'<br>The Nephew answer'd not, except a sigh<br>And look of sorrow might be term'd reply;<br>He saw the fearful hazard of his state,<br>And held with truth and safety strong debate;<br>Nor long he reason'd, for the zealous youth<br>Resolved, though timid, to profess the truth;<br>And though his friend should like a lion roar,<br>Truth would he preach, and neither less nor more.<br>The bells had toll'd--arrived the time of </div><div style="margin:10px 0">prayer,<br>The flock assembled, and the 'Squire was there:<br>And now can poet sing, or proseman say,<br>The disappointment of that trying day?<br>As he who long had train'd a favourite steed,<br>(Whose blood and bone gave promise of his speed,)<br>Sanguine with hope, he runs with partial eye<br>O'er every feature, and his bets are high;<br>Of triumph sure, he sees the rivals start,<br>And waits their coming with exulting heart;<br>Forestalling glory, with impatient glance,<br>And sure to see his conquering steed advance:<br>The conquering steed advances--luckless day!<br>A rival's Herod bears the prize away,<br>Nor second his, nor third, but lagging last,<br>With hanging head he comes, by all surpass'd:<br>Surprise and wrath the owner's mind inflame,<br>Love turns to scorn, and glory ends in shame; -<br>Thus waited, high in hope, the partial 'Squire,<br>Eager to hear, impatient to admire;<br>When the young Preacher, in the tones that find<br>A certain passage to the kindling mind,<br>With air and accent strange, impressive, sad,<br>Alarm'd the judge--he trembled for the lad;<br>But when the text announced the power of grace,<br>Amazement scowl'd upon his clouded face<br>At this degenerate son of his illustrious race;<br>Staring he stood, till hope again arose<br>That James might well define the words he chose:<br>For this he listen'd--but, alas! he found<br>The preacher always on forbidden ground.<br>And now the Uncle left the hated pew,<br>With James, and James's conduct, in his view;<br>A long farewell to all his favourite schemes!<br>For now no crazed fanatic's frantic dreams<br>Seem'd vile as James's conduct, or as James:<br>All he had long derided, hated, fear'd,<br>This, from the chosen youth, the uncle heard; -<br>The needless pause, the fierce disorder'd air,<br>The groan for sin, the vehemence of prayer,<br>Gave birth to wrath, that, in a long discourse<br>Of grace triumphant, rose to fourfold force:<br>He found his thoughts despised, his rules </div><div style="margin:10px 0">transgress'd,<br>And while the anger kindled in his breast,<br>The pain must be endured that could not be </div><div style="margin:10px 0">expressed:<br>Each new idea more inflamed his ire,<br>As fuel thrown upon a rising fire:<br>A hearer yet, he sought by threatening sign<br>To ease his heart, and awe the young divine;<br>But James refused those angry looks to meet,<br>Till he dismiss'd his flock, and left his seat:<br>Exhausted then he felt his trembling frame,<br>But fix'd his soul,--his sentiments the same;<br>And therefore wise it seem'd to fly from rage,<br>And seek for shelter in his parsonage:<br>There, if forsaken, yet consoled to find<br>Some comforts left, though not a few resign'd;<br>There, if he lost an erring parent's love,<br>An honest conscience must the cause approve;<br>If the nice palate were no longer fed,<br>The mind enjoy'd delicious thoughts instead;<br>And if some part of earthly good was flown,<br>Still was the tithe of ten good farms his own.<br>Fear now, and discord, in the village reign,<br>The cool remonstrate, and the meek complain;<br>But there is war within, and wisdom pleads in vain.<br>Now dreads the Uncle, and proclaims his dread,<br>Lest the Boy-priest should turn each rustic head;<br>The certain converts cost him certain woe,<br>The doubtful fear lest they should join the foe:<br>Matrons of old, with whom he used to joke,<br>Now pass his Honour with a pious look;<br>Lasses, who met him once with lively airs,<br>Now cross his way, and gravely walk to prayers:<br>An old companion, whom he long has loved,<br>By coward fears confess'd his conscience moved;<br>As the third bottle gave its spirit forth,<br>And they bore witness to departing worth,<br>The friend arose, and he too would depart:<br>'Man,' said the 'Squire, 'thou wert not wont to </div><div style="margin:10px 0">start;<br>Hast thou attended to that foolish boy,<br>Who would abridge all comforts, or destroy?'<br>Yes, he had listen'd, who had slumber'd long,<br>And was convinced that something must be wrong:<br>But, though affected, still his yielding heart,<br>And craving palate, took the Uncle's part;<br>Wine now oppress'd him, who, when free from wine,<br>Could seldom clearly utter his design;<br>But though by nature and indulgence weak,<br>Yet, half converted, he resolved to speak;<br>And, speaking, own'd, 'that in his mind the Youth<br>Had gifts and learning, and that truth was truth:<br>The 'Squire he honour'd, and for his poor part,<br>He hated nothing like a hollow heart:<br>But 'twas a maxim he had often tried,<br>That right was right, and there he would abide;<br>He honoured learning, and he would confess<br>The preacher had his talents--more or less:<br>Why not agree? he thought the young divine<br>Had no such strictness--they might drink and dine;<br>For them sufficient--but he said before<br>That truth was truth, and he would drink no more.'<br>This heard the 'Squire with mix'd contempt and </div><div style="margin:10px 0">pain;<br>He fear'd the Priest this recreant sot would gain.<br>The favourite Nymph, though not a convert made,<br>Conceived the man she scorn'd her cause would aid,<br>And when the spirits of her lord were low,<br>The lass presumed the wicked cause to show;<br>'It was the wretched life his Honour led,<br>And would draw vengeance on his guilty head;<br>Their loves (Heav'n knew how dreadfully distressed<br>The thought had made her!) were as yet unbless'd:<br>And till the church had sanction'd'--Here she saw<br>The wrath that forced her trembling to withdraw.<br>Add to these outward ills some inward light,<br>That showed him all was not correct and right:<br>Though now he less indulged--and to the poor,<br>From day to day, sent alms from door to door;<br>Though he some ease from easy virtues found,<br>Yet conscience told him he could not compound,<br>But must himself the darling sin deny,<br>Change the whole heart,--but here a heavy sigh<br>Proclaim'd, 'How vast the toil! and, ah! how weak </div><div style="margin:10px 0">am I!'<br>James too has trouble--he divided sees<br>A parish, once harmonious and at ease;<br>With him united are the simply meek,<br>The warm, the sad, the nervous, and the weak;<br>The rest his Uncle's, save the few beside,<br>Who own no doctrine, and obey no guide;<br>With stragglers of each adverse camp, who lend<br>Their aid to both, but each in turn offend.<br>Though zealous still, yet he begins to feel<br>The heat too fierce that glows in vulgar zeal;<br>With pain he hears his simple friends relate<br>Their week's experience, and their woful state;<br>With small temptation struggling every hour,<br>And bravely battling with the tempting power:<br>His native sense is hurt by strange complaints<br>Of inward motions in these warring saints;<br>Who never cast on sinful bait a look,<br>But they perceive the devil at the hook:<br>Grieved, yet compell'd to smile, he finds it hard<br>Against the blunders of conceit to guard;<br>He sighs to hear the jests his converts cause,<br>He cannot give their erring zeal applause;<br>But finds it inconsistent to condemn<br>The flights and follies he has nursed in them:<br>These, in opposing minds, contempt produce,<br>Or mirth occasion, or provoke abuse;<br>On each momentous theme disgrace they bring,<br>And give to Scorn her poison and her sting.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=George+Crabbe">George Crabbe</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=395902" data-title="Tale XV de George Crabbe" data-description="ADVICE; OR THE 'SQUIRE AND THE PRIEST.

A wealthy Lord of far-extended land
Had all that pleased him placed at his command;
Widow'd of late, but finding much relief
In the world's comforts, he dismiss'd his grief;
He was by marriage of his daughte..."></div>
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