’Without a vain, without a grudging heart, 140
  To Him who gives us all, I yield a part;
  From Him you come, for Him accept it here,
  A frank and sober, more than costly cheer.’

   He spoke, and bid the welcome table spread,
  Then talk’d of virtue till the time of bed,
  When the grave household round his hall repair,
  Warn’d by a bell, and close the hours with prayer.

   At length the world, renew’d by calm repose,
  Was strong for toil, the dappled morn arose;
  Before the pilgrims part, the younger crept, 150
  Near the closed cradle where an infant slept,
  And writhed his neck:  the landlord’s little pride—­
  Oh, strange return!—­grew black, and gasp’d, and died. 
  Horror of horrors! what! his only son! 
  How look’d our hermit when the fact was done? 
  Not hell, though hell’s black jaws in sunder part,
  And breathe blue fire, could more assault his heart.

   Confused, and struck with silence at the deed,
  He flies, but, trembling, fails to fly with speed. 
  His steps the youth pursues; the country lay 160
  Perplex’d with roads, a servant show’d the way: 
  A river cross’d the path; the passage o’er
  Was nice to find; the servant trode before;
  Long arms of oaks an open bridge supplied,
  And deep the waves beneath the bending glide. 
  The youth, who seem’d to watch a time to sin,
  Approach’d the careless guide, and thrust him in;
  Plunging he falls, and rising lifts his head,
  Then flashing turns, and sinks among the dead.

   Wild sparkling rage inflames the father’s eyes, 170
  He bursts the bands of fear, and madly cries: 
  ’Detested wretch!’—­But scarce his speech began,
  When the strange partner seem’d no longer man: 
  His youthful face grew more serenely sweet;
  His robe turn’d white, and flow’d upon his feet;
  Fair rounds of radiant points invest his hair;
  Celestial odours breathe through purpled air;
  And wings, whose colours glitter’d on the day,
  Wide at his back their gradual plumes display;
  The form ethereal bursts upon his sight, 180
  And moves in all the majesty of light.

   Though loud at first the pilgrim’s passion grew,
  Sudden he gazed, and wist not what to do;
  Surprise in secret chains his word suspends,
  And in a calm his settling temper ends. 
  But silence here the beauteous angel broke,
  The voice of music ravish’d as he spoke: 

   ’Thy prayer, thy praise, thy life to vice unknown,
  In sweet memorial rise before the throne: 
  These charms, success in our bright region find, 190
  And force an angel down, to calm thy mind;
  For this commission’d, I forsook the sky—­
  Nay, cease to kneel—­thy fellow-servant I!

   ’Then know the truth of government divine,
  And let these scruples be no longer thine.