Eager, perdie, to bak in funny day! The noifes intermix'd, which thence refound, Do Learning's little tenement betray; Where fits the dame, difguis'd in look profound, Her cap, far whiter than the driven fnow, And ftedfaft hate, and fharp affliction join'd; Few but have kenn'd, in femblance meet pourtray'd, Libs, Notus, Aufter*: thefe in frowns array'd, And were not she her ftatutes to maintain, The cot no more, I ween, were deem'd the cell Where comely peace of mind and decent order dwell. A ruffet ftole was o'er her fhoulders thrown; 'Twas fimple ruffet, but it was her own: 'Twas her own country bred the flock fo fair; 'Twas her own labour did the fleece prepare; And, footh to say, her pupils, rang'd around, Thro' pious awe did term it paffing rare; For they in gaping wonderment abound, And think, no doubt, fhe been the greatest wight on ground. The fouth-weft wind, fouth, &c. &c. Albeit, |