TALE V.
VILLARS.
Poet. Know you the fate of Villars?—
Friend. What! the lad
At school so fond of solitude, and sad;
Who broke our bounds because he scorn’d a guide,
And would walk lonely by the river’s side?—
P. The same!—who rose at midnight to behold
The moonbeams shedding their ethereal gold;
Who held our sports and pleasures in disgrace,
For Guy of Warwick, and old Chevy Chase.—