. The ballad of Beau Brocade, and other poems of the XVIIIth century. The merry horn, when Sweetlip swelledIts jovial riot; A Gentleman of the Old School. 29 But most his measured words of praiseCaressed the anglers easy ways,—. His idly meditative days,—His rustic diet. 30 A Gentleman of the Old School. Not that his meditating roseBeyond a sunny summer doze;He never troubled his repose With fruitless prying;But held, as law for high and low,What God withholds no man can know,And smiled away inquiry so, Without replying. We read—alas, how much we read!—The jumbled strifes of creed and creedWit
. The ballad of Beau Brocade, and other poems of the XVIIIth century. The merry horn, when Sweetlip swelledIts jovial riot; A Gentleman of the Old School. 29 But most his measured words of praiseCaressed the anglers easy ways,—. His idly meditative days,—His rustic diet. 30 A Gentleman of the Old School. Not that his meditating roseBeyond a sunny summer doze;He never troubled his repose With fruitless prying;But held, as law for high and low,What God withholds no man can know,And smiled away inquiry so, Without replying. We read—alas, how much we read!—The jumbled strifes of creed and creedWith endless controversies feed Our groaning tables;His books—and they sufficed him—wereCottons Montaigne, The Grave of Blair,A Walton —^much the worse for wear. And ^sops Fables. A Gentleman of the Old School. 31 One more,— The Bible. Not that heHad searched its page as deep as we;No sophistries could make him see Its slender credit;It may be that he could not countThe sires and sons to Jesses fount,—He liked the Sermon on the Mount,— And more, he read it. Once he had loved, but failed to wed,A red-cheeked lass who long was dead;His ways were far too slow, he said. To quite forget her;And still when time
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