[The Pilot] of the Galilean Lake;
[Two massy keys he bore of metals twain] 110
(The golden opes, the iron shuts amain).
[He shook his mitred locks], and stern bespake:—
“[How well could I have spared for thee], young swain,
[Enow] of such as, for their bellies’ sake,
Creep, and intrude, and [climb into the fold]! 115
Of other care they little reckoning make
Than how to scramble at the shearers’ feast,
And shove away the worthy bidden guest.