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And measſur'd back his ſteps to earth again.
To what exceſſes had his dotage run?
But God, to ſave the father, took the ſon.
To all, but thee, in fits he ſeem'd to go,
(And 'twas my miniſtry to deal the blow.)
The poor fond parent, humbled in the duſt,
Now owns in tears the puniſhment was juſt.
But how had all his fortune felt a wreck,
Had that falſe ſervant ſped in ſafety back?
This night his treaſur'd heaps he meant to ſteal!
And what a fund of charity would fail!
Thus heav'n inſtructs thy mind; this trial o'er,
Depart in peace, reſign, and ſin no more.
On ſounding pinions here the youth withdrew:
The ſage ſtood wondring as the ſeraph flew.
Thus look'd Eliſha, when, to mount on high,
His maſter took the chariot of the ſky:
The fiery pomp aſcending left the view;
The prophet gaz'd and wiſh'd to follow too.
The bending hermit here a pray'r begun,
Lord, as in heaven, on earth thy will be done:
Then gladly turning, fought his ancient place,
And paſs'd a life of piety and peace.
