Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=395923" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Borough. Letter XIX: The Parish-Clerk</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">WITH our late Vicar, and his age the same,<br>His clerk, hight Jachin, to his office came;<br>The like slow speech was his, the like tall slender </div><div style="margin:10px 0">frame:<br>But Jachin was the gravest man on ground,<br>And heard his master's jokes with look profound;<br>For worldly wealth this man of letters sigh'd,<br>And had a sprinkling of the spirit's pride:<br>But he was sober, chaste, devout and just,<br>One whom his neighbours could believe and trust:<br>Of none suspected, neither man nor maid<br>By him were wrong'd, or were of him afraid.<br>There was indeed a frown, a trick of state<br>In Jachin;--formal was his air and gait:<br>But if he seem'd more solemn and less kind,<br>Than some light men to light affairs confined,<br>Still 'twas allow'd that he should so behave<br>As in high seat, and be severely grave.<br>This book-taught man, to man's first foe </div><div style="margin:10px 0">profess'd<br>Defiance stern, and hate that knew not rest;<br>He held that Satan, since the world began,<br>In every act, had strife with every man;<br>That never evil deed on earth was done,<br>But of the acting parties he was one;<br>The flattering guide to make ill prospects clear;<br>To smooth rough ways the constant pioneer;<br>The ever-tempting, soothing, softening power,<br>Ready to cheat, seduce, deceive, devour.<br>'Me has the sly Seducer oft withstood,'<br>Said pious Jachin,--'but he gets no good;<br>I pass the house where swings the tempting sign,<br>And pointing, tell him, 'Satan, that is thine:'<br>I pass the damsels pacing down the street,<br>And look more grave and solemn when we meet;<br>Nor doth it irk me to rebuke their smiles,<br>Their wanton ambling and their watchful wiles:<br>Nay, like the good John Bunyan, when I view<br>Those forms, I'm angry at the ills they do;<br>That I could pinch and spoil, in sin's despite,<br>Beauties, which frail and evil thoughts excite. <br>'At feasts and banquets seldom am I found,<br>And (save at church) abhor a tuneful sound;<br>To plays and shows I run not to and fro,<br>And where my master goes, forbear to go.'<br>No wonder Satan took the thing amiss,<br>To be opposed by such a man as this -<br>A man so grave, important, cautious, wise,<br>Who dared not trust his feeling or his eyes;<br>No wonder he should lurk and lie in wait,<br>Should fit his hooks and ponder on his bait;<br>Should on his movements keep a watchful eye;<br>For he pursued a fish who led the fry.<br>With his own peace our Clerk was not content;<br>He tried, good man! to make his friends repent.<br>'Nay, nay, my friends, from inns and taverns </div><div style="margin:10px 0">fly;<br>You may suppress your thirst, but not supply:<br>A foolish proverb says, 'the devil's at home;'<br>But he is there, and tempts in every room:<br>Men feel, they know not why, such places please;<br>His are the spells--they're idleness and ease;<br>Magic of fatal kind he throws around,<br>Where care is banish'd, but the heart is bound.<br>'Think not of beauty;--when a maid you meet,<br>Turn from her view and step across the street;<br>Dread all the sex: their looks create a charm,<br>A smile should fright you and a word alarm:<br>E'en I myself, with all my watchful care,<br>Have for an instant felt the insidious snare;<br>And caught my sinful eyes at the endang'ring stars;<br>Till I was forced to smite my bounding breast<br>With forceful blow, and bid the bold-one rest.<br>'Go not with crowds when they to pleasure run,<br>But public joy in private safety shun:<br>When bells, diverted from their true intent,<br>Ring loud for some deluded mortal sent<br>To hear or make long speech in parliament;<br>What time the many, that unruly beast,<br>Roars its rough joy and shares the final feast?<br>Then heed my counsel, shut thine ears and eyes;<br>A few will hear me--for the few are wise.'<br>Not Satan's friends, nor Satan's self could </div><div style="margin:10px 0">bear,<br>The cautious man who took of souls such care;<br>An interloper,--one who, out of place,<br>Had volunteered upon the side of grace:<br>There was his master ready once a week<br>To give advice; what further need he seek?<br>'Amen, so be it:'--what had he to do<br>With more than this?--'twas insolent and new;<br>And some determined on a way to see<br>How frail he was, that so it might not be.<br>First they essay'd to tempt our saint to sin,<br>By points of doctrine argued at an inn;<br>Where he might warmly reason, deeply drink,<br>Then lose all power to argue and to think.<br>In vain they tried; he took the question up,<br>Clear'd every doubt, and barely touch'd the cup:<br>By many a text he proved his doctrine sound,<br>And look'd in triumph on the tempters round.<br>Next 'twas their care an artful lass to find,<br>Who might consult him, as perplex'd in mind;<br>She they conceived might put her case with fears,<br>With tender tremblings and seducing tears;<br>She might such charms of various kind display,<br>That he would feel their force and melt away:<br>For why of nymphs such caution and such dread,<br>Unless he felt, and fear'd to be misled?<br>She came, she spake: he calmly heard her case,<br>And plainly told her 'twas a want of grace;<br>Bade her 'such fancies and affections check,<br>And wear a thicker muslin on her neck.'<br>Abased, his human foes the combat fled,<br>And the stern clerk yet higher held his head.<br>They were indeed a weak, impatient set,<br>But their shrewd prompter had his engines yet;<br>Had various means to make a mortal trip,<br>Who shunn'd a flowing bowl and rosy lip;<br>And knew a thousand ways his heart to move,<br>Who flies from banquets and who laughs at love.<br>Thus far the playful Muse has lent her aid,<br>But now departs, of graver theme afraid;<br>Her may we seek in more appropriate time, -<br>There is no jesting with distress and crime.<br>Our worthy Clerk had now arrived at fame,<br>Such as but few in his degree might claim;<br>But he was poor, and wanted not the sense<br>That lowly rates the praise without the pence:<br>He saw the common herd with reverence treat<br>The weakest burgess whom they chanced to meet;<br>While few respected his exalted views,<br>And all beheld his doublet and his shoes:<br>None, when they meet, would to his parts allow<br>(Save his poor boys) a hearing or a bow:<br>To this false judgment of the vulgar mind,<br>He was not fully, as a saint, resign'd;<br>He found it much his jealous soul affect,<br>To fear derision and to find neglect.<br>The year was bad, the christening-fees were </div><div style="margin:10px 0">small,<br>The weddings few, the parties paupers all:<br>Desire of gain with fear of want combined,<br>Raised sad commotion in his wounded mind;<br>Wealth was in all his thoughts, his views, his </div><div style="margin:10px 0">dreams,<br>And prompted base desires and baseless schemes.<br>Alas! how often erring mortals keep<br>The strongest watch against the foes who sleep;<br>While the more wakeful, bold, and artful foe<br>Is suffer'd guardless and unmark'd to go.<br>Once in a month the sacramental bread<br>Our Clerk with wine upon the table spread:<br>The custom this, that as the vicar reads,<br>He for our off'rings round the church proceeds;<br>Tall spacious seats the wealthier people hid,<br>And none had view of what his neighbour did:<br>Laid on the box and mingled when they fell,<br>Who should the worth of each oblation tell?<br>Now as poor Jachin took the usual round,<br>And saw the alms and heard the metal sound,<br>He had a thought--at first it was no more<br>Than--'these have cash and give it to the poor.'<br>A second thought from this to work began -<br>'And can they give it to a poorer man?'<br>Proceeding thus,--'My merit could they know;<br>And knew my need, how freely they'd bestow;<br>But though they know not, these remain the same,<br>And are a strong, although a secret claim:<br>To me, alas! the want and worth are known;<br>Why then, in fact, 'tis but to take my own.'<br>Thought after thought pour'd in, a tempting </div><div style="margin:10px 0">train: -<br>'Suppose it done,--who is it could complain?<br>How could the poor? for they such trifles share,<br>As add no comfort, as suppress no care;<br>But many a pittance makes a worthy heap, -<br>What says the law? that silence puts to sleep: -<br>Nought then forbids, the danger could we shun,<br>And sure the business may be safely done.<br>'But am I earnest?--earnest? No.--I say,<br>If such my mind, that I could plan a way;<br>Let me reflect;--I've not allow'd me time<br>To purse the pieces, and if dropp'd they'd chime:'<br>Fertile is evil in the soul of man. -<br>He paused,--said Jachin, 'They may drop on bran.<br>Why then 'tis safe and (all consider'd) just,<br>The poor receive it,--'tis no breach of trust:<br>The old and widows may their trifles miss,<br>There must be evil in a good like this:<br>But I'll be kind--the sick I'll visit twice,<br>When now but once, and freely give advice.<br>Yet let me think again:'--Again he tried,<br>For stronger reasons on his passion's side,<br>And quickly these were found, yet slowly he </div><div style="margin:10px 0">complied.<br>The morning came: the common service done,<br>Shut every door,--the solemn rite begun, -<br>And, as the priest the sacred sayings read,<br>The clerk went forward, trembling as he tread:<br>O'er the tall pew he held the box, and heard<br>The offer'd piece, rejoicing as he fear'd:<br>Just by the pillar, as he cautious tripp'd,<br>And turn'd the aisle, he then a portion slipp'd<br>From the full store, and to the pocket sent,<br>But held a moment--and then down it went.<br>The priest read on, on walk'd the man afraid,<br>Till a gold offering in the plate was laid:<br>Trembling he took it, for a moment stopp'd,<br>Then down it fell, and sounded as it dropp'd;<br>Amazed he started, for th' affrighted man,<br>Lost and bewilder'd, thought not of the bran.<br>But all were silent, all on things intent<br>Of high concern, none ear to money lent;<br>So on he walk'd, more cautious than before,<br>And gain'd the purposed sum and one piece more.<br>'Practice makes perfect:' when the month came </div><div style="margin:10px 0">round,<br>He dropp'd the cash, nor listen'd for a sound:<br>But yet, when last of all th' assembled flock<br>He ate and drank,--it gave th' electric shock:<br>Oft was he forced his reasons to repeat,<br>Ere he could kneel in quiet at his seat;<br>But custom soothed him--ere a single year<br>All this was done without restraint or fear:<br>Cool and collected, easy and composed,<br>He was correct till all the service closed;<br>Then to his home, without a groan or sigh,<br>Gravely he went, and laid his treasure by.<br>Want will complain: some widows had express'd<br>A doubt if they were favour'd like the rest;<br>The rest described with like regret their dole,<br>And thus from parts they reason'd to the whole:<br>When all agreed some evil must be done,<br>Or rich men's hearts grew harder than a stone.<br>Our easy vicar cut the matter short;<br>He would not listen to such vile report.<br>All were not thus--there govern'd in that year<br>A stern stout churl, an angry overseer;<br>A tyrant fond of power, loud, lewd, and most </div><div style="margin:10px 0">severe:<br>Him the mild vicar, him the graver clerk,<br>Advised, reproved, but nothing would he mark.<br>Save the disgrace; 'and that, my friends,' said he,<br>'Will I avenge, whenever time may be.'<br>And now, alas! 'twas time: --from man to man<br>Doubt and alarm and shrewd suspicions ran.<br>With angry spirit and with sly intent,<br>This parish-ruler to the altar went:<br>A private mark he fix'd on shillings three,<br>And but one mark could in the money see:<br>Besides in peering round, he chanced to note<br>A sprinkling slight on Jachin's Sunday-coat:<br>All doubt was over: --when the flock were bless'd,<br>In wrath he rose, and thus his mind express'd: -<br>'Foul deeds are here!' and saying this, he took<br>The Clerk, whose conscience, in her cold-fit, </div><div style="margin:10px 0">shook:<br>His pocket then was emptied on the place;<br>All saw his guilt; all witness'd his disgrace:<br>He fell, he fainted, not a groan, a look,<br>Escaped the culprit; 'twas a final stroke -<br>A death-wound never to be heal'd--a fall<br>That all had witness'd, and amazed were all.<br>As he recover'd, to his mind it came,<br>'I owe to Satan this disgrace and shame:'<br>All the seduction now appear'd in view;<br>'Let me withdraw,' he said, and he withdrew:<br>No one withheld him, all in union cried,<br>E'en the avenger,--'We are satisfied:'<br>For what has death in any form to give,<br>Equal to that man's terrors, if he live?<br>He lived in freedom, but he hourly saw<br>How much more fatal justice is than law;<br>He saw another in his office reign,<br>And his mild master treat him with disdain:<br>He saw that all men shunn'd him, some reviled,<br>The harsh pass'd frowning, and the simple smiled;<br>The town maintain'd him, but with some reproof,<br>And clerks and scholars proudly kept aloof.<br>In each lone place, dejected and dismay'd,<br>Shrinking from view, his wasting form he laid;<br>Or to the restless sea and roaring wind<br>Gave the strong yearnings of a ruin'd mind:<br>On the broad beach, the silent summer-day,<br>Stretch'd on some wreck, he wore his life away;<br>Or where the river mingles with the sea,<br>Or on the mud-bank by the elder tree,<br>Or by the bounding marsh-dike, there was he:<br>And when unable to forsake the town,<br>In the blind courts he sat desponding down -<br>Always alone: then feebly would he crawl<br>The church-way walk, and lean upon the wall:<br>Too ill for this, he lay beside the door,<br>Compell'd to hear the reasoning of the poor:<br>He look'd so pale, so weak, the pitying crowd<br>Their firm belief of his repentance vow'd;<br>They saw him then so ghastly and so thin,<br>That they exclaim'd, 'Is this the work of sin?'<br>'Yes,' in his better moments, he replied,<br>'Of sinful avarice and the spirit's pride; -<br>While yet untempted, I was safe and well;<br>Temptation came; I reason'd, and I fell:<br>To be man's guide and glory I design'd,<br>A rare example for our sinful kind;<br>But now my weakness and my guilt I see,<br>And am a warning--man, be warn'd by me!'<br>He said, and saw no more the human face;<br>To a lone loft he went, his dying place,<br>And, as the vicar of his state inquired,<br>Turn'd to the wall and silently expired!</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>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<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=395923" data-title="The Borough. Letter XIX: The Parish-Clerk de George Crabbe" data-description="WITH our late Vicar, and his age the same,
His clerk, hight Jachin, to his office came;
The like slow speech was his, the like tall slender 

frame:
But Jachin was the gravest man on ground,
And heard his master's jokes with look profound;
For wor..."></div>
</div>
</div>