The Moralizer Corrected. A Tale.

A hermit (or if chance you hold     That title now too trite and old),     A man, once young, who lived retired     As hermit could have well desired,     His hours of study closed at last,     And finishd his concise repast,     Stoppled his cruise, replaced his book     Within its customary nook,     And, staff in hand, set forth to share     The sober cordial of sweet air,     Like Isaac, with a mind applied     To serious thought at evening-tide.     Autumnal rains had made it chill,     And from the trees, that fringed his hill,     Shades slanting at the close of day,     Chilld more his else delightful way.     Distant a little mile he spied     A western banks still sunny side,     And right toward the favourd place     Proceeding with his nimblest pace,     In hope to bask a little yet,     Just reachd it when the sun was set.     Your hermit, young and jovial sirs!     Learns something from whateer occurs     And hence, he said, my mind computes     The real worth of mans pursuits.     His object chosen, wealth or fame,     Or other sublunary game,     Imagination to his view     Presents it deckd with every hue,     That can seduce him not to spare     His powers of best exertion there,     But youth, health, vigour to expend     On so desirable an end.     Ere long approach lifes evening shades,     The glow that fancy gave it fades;     And, earnd too late, it wants the grace     That first engaged him in the chase.     True, answerd an angelic guide,     Attendant at the seniors side     But whether all the time it cost     To urge the fruitless chase be lost,     Must be decided by the worth     Of that which calld his ardour forth.     Trifles pursued, whateer the event,     Must cause him shame or discontent;     A vicious object still is worse,     Successful there, he wins a curse;     But he, whom een in lifes last stage     Endeavours laudable engage,     Is paid at least in peace of mind,     And sense of having well designd;     And if, ere he attain his end,     His sun precipitate descend,     A brighter prize than that he meant     Shall recompense his mere intent.     No virtuous wish can bear a date     Either too early or too late.