Page:Gesta Romanorum - Swan - Wright - 1.djvu/551

Rh The moss his bed, the cave his humble cell, His food the fruits, his drink the crystal well: Remote from men, with God he pass'd his days, Pray'r all his business, all his pleasure praise. "A life so sacred, such serene repose, Seem'd heaven itself, till one suggestion rose; That vice should triumph, virtue vice obey,— This sprung some doubt of Providence's sway: His hopes no more a certain prospect boast, And all the tenour of his soul was lost: So when a smooth expanse receives imprest Calm nature's image on its wat'ry breast, Down bend the banks, the trees depending grow, And skies beneath with answering colours glow: But if a stone the gentle sea divide, Swift ruffling circles curl on every side, And glimmering fragments of a broken sun, Banks, trees, and skies in thick disorder run. "To clear this doubt, to know the world by sight, To find if books, or swains, report it right, (For yet by swains alone the world he knew, Whose feet came wand'ring o'er the nightly dew) He quits his cell; the pilgrim's staff he bore, And fix'd the scallop in his hat before; Then with the sun a rising journey went, Sedate to think, and watching each event.