XXXIV.

Oh for a _forty-parson power_[540]--to chant Thy praise, Hypocrisy! Oh for a hymn Loud as the virtues thou dost loudly vaunt, Not practise! Oh for trump of Cherubim! Or the ear-trumpet of my good old aunt,[541] Who, though her spectacles at last grew dim, Drew quiet consolation through its hint, When she no more could read the pious print.