Page:The Battle of the Books, and Other Short Pieces.djvu/80

 And high in order placed, describe The heraldry of every tribe. A bedstead of the antique mode, Compact of timber, many a load, Such as our ancestors did use, Was metamorphosed into pews: Which still their ancient nature keep, By lodging folks disposed to sleep. The cottage, by such feats as these, Grown to a church by just degrees, The hermits then desired their host To ask for what he fancied most. Philemon having paused a while, Returned 'em thanks in homely style; Then said, "My house is grown so fine, Methinks I still would call it mine: I'm old, and fain would live at ease, Make me the Parson, if you please." He spoke, and presently he feels His grazier's coat fall down his heels; He sees, yet hardly can believe, About each arm a pudding sleeve; His waistcoat to a cassock grew, And both assumed a sable hue; But being old, continued just As thread-bare, and as full of dust. His talk was now of tithes and dues; He smoked his pipe and read the news;