A Rare Old Poem

- Poor Friar Philip loBt his wife, The charm and comfort of his life ; ! He niourned her juat like modern men, For ladies were worth having then. ', The world wan altered in his view, ■ All thicgs put on a yellow hue : Even ladios, once his chief clelight, ■ Were now offensive to liis sight ; In short, he pined and looked so ill, The doctor hoped to inake a bil). ■ At last he made a vow to fly, And hide himself f rom every eye ; . Take up his lodgings in a wood, To turn a hermit and grow good. He had a son, you now inust know, About a twelvemouth old or so; Him Philip took up in his arme, To snatch him from all feniale ch&ims, Intending he should never know There were such things ae girl's below, But lead au honest hermit's life, Lest he, likewise, might lose his wife. The place he choee for his retreat Was once a lion's country Beat. Far in a wild, romantic wood The hermit's little cottage stood, Hid by the trees f rom human view; The euu himself could scarce get through. A little garden, tilled with carv Supplied thcm with their öaÜy ïftre- Fresh watercreeses from tue spHne, Turnips, or ffreens, or eoine süfch thing. Hertnits doirt care much what they eat, And appeUte can tuake it sweet! Twas here our little hermit grew; His father taught him all he knew, Adapted, like a cheerful saget His lcflsons to the papil'ö age. At five years olfi he showea him flowere, Tftught him their various names and powers - Taught hlin to blow upon a reed, To say his prayers and get the creed. At ten he lectured him on herbs (Better than le-rniug nouns and verbs;, Th9 naïttes and qualities of trees, Mahners and customs of the bees ; Then talked of oysters full of pearls, But not one word about the girls. At iifteen years he turned his eyes To view the wonders of the Bkies ; Called all the stars by their right immop. As you would cali on John or James ; And showed him all the sígns above, But not a whisper about love. And now liis sixteenth year was nigh, And yet he had not learnetl to sigh ; Had sleep and appetite to spare ; He could not teil the name of care ; And all because he did not know There were such things as girls below. But now a tempest raged around The hermit's little nest was dïtwnedt Good-by, then, to $xor ïhiHp's erop; It did not leave a tursip top. Poor Philip grieved, and his son too ; They prayed- they knew not what to do; If they were herniite, they muEt live, And wolves havo not much alms to give Nowt in his native town he knew He had disciples - rich ones, too - Who would not let him beg in vain, But set tlie hermit up again. But what to do with liis yoüng 6on Pray, teil me, what would you have done? Take him to town he was afraid, For what if he ahould see a maid ! In love, as sure as he had eyes I Then any quantity of sigha ! Leave him at home? tbe wole, the bears ! Poor Philip lMtd a falher'6 fears. In short, he knew not what to do, Dut though, at last, to take him too - And 80, with truly pious care, He counts his beads in anxious prayer, Intended as a sort of charm To keep his darling lad f rom harm ; That ia, from pretty ladieB' wilep, Especially their eyes and smiles ; Then brushed his coat of silver gray ; And now you sec thom on their way. It was & town, they all agree, Where there was everythiDg to see, As paintings, etatuej and so on, All that nien love to looit upon. Our little lad, yon may suppose, Had never seen so many Bhows ; He stands with opeñ niouth and eyes, Like oiie juet fallen from the sLies ; Pointing at everytliing he sees - 'What's this? what's üiat? Oh, here? what's these ?" At last he sees a charming thing, That men cali angel when they sing - Young lady, when they speak in prose - Sweet thing! as everybody knows. Transported, ra visbed at the sight He feels a strange, but sweet delight. 11 What's this? what's this? oh, heavens!" hecries, "That looks 60 eweetly with its eyes; Oh ! Bhali I catch it ? is it tame ? What is it, father? what'rf its name?" Poor Philip knew not what to say, But tried to turn his eyes away. He crossed himself and made a vow - '' 'Tis as I feared, all's over now ; Then, pr'ythee, have thy wit's let loose ? It is a bird men cali a goose." " A goose I O pretty, pretty thing ! And will it sing, too, will it sing ? O come, come quickly, let us run ; That's a good father, catch me one ! We'll take it with us to our ccll ; Indeed, indeed, I love it well !"