WINTHROP MACKWORTH PRAED 670 The Vicar
- OME years ago, ere time and taste
Had turn'd our parish topsy-turvy, When Darnel Park was Darnel Waste, And roads as little known as scurvy, The man who lost his way, between
St. Mary's Hill and Sandy Thicket, Was always shown across the green, And guided to the" Parson's wicket.
Back flew the bolt of lissom lath;
Fair Margaret, in her tidy kirtle, Led the lorn traveller up the path,
Through clean-clipt rows of box and myrtle; And Don and Sancho, Tramp and Tray,
Upon the parlour steps collected, Wagg'd all their tails, and sccm'd to say
'Our master knows you you're expected.'
Uprose the Reverend Dr. Brown,
Uprose the Doctor's winsome marrow, The lady laid her knitting down,
Her husband clasp'd his ponderous Barrow; Whate'er the stranger's caste or creed,
Pundit or Papist, saint or sinner, He found a stable for his steed,
And welcome for himself, and dinner.
If, when he reach'd his journey's end,
And warm'd himself in Court or College,
He had not gained an honest friend
And twenty curious scraps of knowledge,
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