194r STONEfiRAVB. 



Oft water fairest meadows, and the bird 

 That flutters least is longest on the wing. 

 Ask him, indeed, what trophies he has raised, 

 Or what achievements of immortal fame 

 He purposes, and he shall answer none. 

 His warfare is within. There unfatigued 

 His fervent spirit labours. There he fights, 

 And there obtains fresh triumphs o'er himself, 

 And never withering wreaths, co ti pared with 

 The laurels that a Caenar reaps are weeds. 

 Perhaps the self-approving haughty world, 

 That as she r neeps him with her whistling silks/ 

 Scarce <leigns to notice him, or, if she see, 

 Deems him a cypher in the works of God, 

 Receives advantage from his noiseless hours, 

 Of which she little dreams. Perhaps she owes 

 Her sunshine and her rain, her blooming spring 

 And plenteous harvest, TO THE pit AY' it HB MAKES;. 

 "When Isaac like, the solitary saint 

 Walks forth to meditate at eventide, 



And THINK ON HER, WHO THINKS NOT FOR HERSELF. 



Cowper's Task, Book vi, conclusion. 



There need*? no apology for this long quotation, 

 or for the insertion of lines so beautiful in them- 

 selves, and so applicable in their general spirit, as 

 well as in particular passages, to the situation of 

 the divine here mentioned ; and not to his situation 

 only but to that of many others equally secluded, 

 and apparently shut out of the world. 



The las* relic of antiquity worthy of notice in the 

 north aisle, is an exceedingly curious ami old es- 

 cutcheon to (he memory of William Tfornton, Esq, 

 of eaat Newton, who died hi 1368 ; and recording 



