That he would feel their force and melt away: 
For why of nymphs such caution and such dread,
Unless he felt, and fear’d to be misled? 
   She came, she spake:  he calmly heard her case,
And plainly told her ’twas a want of grace;
Bade her “such fancies and affections check,
And wear a thicker muslin on her neck.” 
Abased, his human foes the combat fled,
And the stern clerk yet higher held his head. 
They were indeed a weak, impatient set,
But their shrewd prompter had his engines yet;
Had various means to make a mortal trip,
Who shunn’d a flowing bowl and rosy lip;
And knew a thousand ways his heart to move,
Who flies from banquets and who laughs at love. 
   Thus far the playful Muse has lent her aid,
But now departs, of graver theme afraid;
Her may we seek in more appropriate time, —
There is no jesting with distress and crime. 
   Our worthy Clerk had now arrived at fame,
Such as but few in his degree might claim;
But he was poor, and wanted not the sense
That lowly rates the praise without the pence: 
He saw the common herd with reverence treat
The weakest burgess whom they chanced to meet;
While few respected his exalted views,
And all beheld his doublet and his shoes: 
None, when they meet, would to his parts allow
(Save his poor boys) a hearing or a bow: 
To this false judgment of the vulgar mind,
He was not fully, as a saint, resign’d;
He found it much his jealous soul affect,
To fear derision and to find neglect. 
   The year was bad, the christening-fees were small,
The weddings few, the parties paupers all: 
Desire of gain with fear of want combined,
Raised sad commotion in his wounded mind;
Wealth was in all his thoughts, his views, his dreams,
And prompted base desires and baseless schemes. 
   Alas! how often erring mortals keep
The strongest watch against the foes who sleep;
While the more wakeful, bold, and artful foe
Is suffer’d guardless and unmark’d to go. 
   Once in a month the sacramental bread
Our Clerk with wine upon the table spread: 
The custom this, that as the vicar reads,
He for our off’rings round the church proceeds;
Tall spacious seats the wealthier people hid,
And none had view of what his neighbour did: 
Laid on the box and mingled when they fell,
Who should the worth of each oblation tell? 
Now as poor Jachin took the usual round,
And saw the alms and heard the metal sound,
He had a thought—­at first it was no more
Than—­“these have cash and give it to the poor.” 
A second thought from this to work began —
“And can they give it to a poorer man?”
Proceeding thus,—­“My merit could they know;
And knew my need, how freely they’d bestow;
But though they know not, these remain the same,
And are a strong, although a secret claim: 
To me, alas! the want and worth are known;
Why then, in fact, ’tis but to take my own.”