Was taught to teach, instructed to subdue,
And train’d for ghostly warfare, when the call
Of his new duties reach’d him from the Hall. 
   Now to the ’Squire, although alert and stout,
Came unexpected an attack of gout;
And the grieved patron felt such serious pain,
He never thought to see a church again: 
Thrice had the youthful rector taught the crowd,
Whose growing numbers spoke his powers aloud,
Before the patron could himself rejoice
(His pain still lingering) in the general voice;
For he imputed all this early fame
To graceful manner and the well-known name;
And to himself assumed a share of praise,
For worth and talents he was pleased to raise. 
   A month had flown, and with it fled disease;
What pleased before, began again to please;
Emerging daily from his chamber’s gloom,
He found his old sensations hurrying home;
Then call’d his nephew, and exclaim’d, “My boy,
Let us again the balm of life enjoy;
The foe has left me, and I deem it right,
Should he return, to arm me for the fight.” 
   Thus spoke the ’Squire, the favourite nymph stood by,
And view’d the priest with insult in her eye;
She thrice had heard him when he boldly spoke
On dangerous points, and fear’d he would revoke: 
   For James she ioved not—­and her manner told,
“This warm affection will be quickly cold:” 
And still she fear’d impression might be made
Upon a subject nervous and decay’d;
She knew her danger, and had no desire
Of reformation in the gallant ’Squire;
And felt an envious pleasure in her breast
To see the rector daunted and distress’d. 
   Again the Uncle to the youth applied —
“Cast, my dear lad, that cursed gloom aside: 
There are for all things time and place; appear
Grave in your pulpit, and be merry here: 
Now take your wine—­for woes a sure resource,
And the best prelude to a long discourse.” 
   James half obey’d, but cast an angry eye
On the fair lass, who still stood watchful by;
Resolving thus, “I have my fears—­but still
I must perform my duties, and I will: 
No love, no interest, shall my mind control;
Better to lose my comforts than my soul;
Better my uncle’s favour to abjure,
Than the upbraidings of my heart endure.” 
   He took his glass, and then address’d the ’Squire: 
“I feel not well, permit me to retire.” 
The ’Squire conceived that the ensuing day
Gave him these terrors for the grand essay,
When he himself should this young preacher try,
And stand before him with observant eye;
This raised compassion in his manly breast,
And he would send the rector to his rest;
Yet first, in soothing voice—­“A moment stay,
And these suggestions of a friend obey;
Treasure these hints, if fame or peace you prize, —
The bottle emptied, I shall close my eyes. 
   “On every priest a twofold care attends,
To prove his talents, and insure his friends: