“Muttering his uncouth doctrines would he preach,
“Now drooping, woeful, wan, like one forlorn,
“In deep despair the Mitre’s grace to reach.
“One morn I miss’d him at the hour of prayer,
“In vain I took my spectacles to see;
“His wonted surplice did another wear,
“Nor in the vestry, nor the desk was he.
“The next with dirges due, in sad array,
“Slow through the church-way path we saw him brought,
“Approach and read (if thou canst read!) the lay