That change in you should work an equal change?”
   “Wretch that thou art,” an elder cried, “and gone
For everlasting!”—­“Go thyself,” said John;
Depart this instant, let me hear no more;
My house my castle is, and that my door.” 
   The hint they took, and from the door withdrew,
And John to meeting bade a long adieu;
Attached to business, he in time became
A wealthy man of no inferior name. 
It seem’d, alas! in John’s deluded sight,
That all was wrong because not all was right: 
And when he found his teachers had their stains,
Resentment and not reason broke his chains: 
Thus on his feelings he again relied,
And never look’d to reason for his guide: 
Could he have wisely view’d the frailty shown,
And rightly weigh’d their wanderings and his own,
He might have known that men may be sincere,
Though gay and feasting on the savoury cheer;
That doctrines sound and sober they may teach,
Who love to eat with all the glee they preach;
Nay! who believe the duck, the grape, the pine,
Were not intended for the dog and swine: 
But Dighton’s hasty mind on every theme
Ran from the truth, and rested in th’ extreme: 
Flaws in his friends he found, and then withdrew
(Vain of his knowledge) from their virtues too,
Best of his books he loved the liberal kind
That, if they improve not, still enlarge the mind;
And found himself, with such advisers, free
From a fix’d creed, as mind enlarged could be. 
His humble wife at these opinions sigh’d,
But her he never heeded till she died: 
He then assented to a last request,
And by the meeting-window let her rest;
And on her stone the sacred text was seen,
Which had her comfort in departing been. 
   Dighton with joy beheld his trade advance,
Yet seldom published, loth to trust to chance: 
Then wed a doctor’s sister—­poor indeed,
But skill’d in works her husband could not read;
Who, if he wish’d new ways of wealth to seek,
Could make her half-crown pamphlet in a week: 
This he rejected, though without disdain. 
And chose the old and certain way to gain. 
   Thus he proceeded:  trade increased the while,
And fortune woo’d him with perpetual smile: 
On early scenes he sometimes cast a thought,
When on his heart the mighty change was wrought;
And all the ease and comfort Converts find
Was magnified in his reflecting mind: 
Then on the teacher’s priestly pride he dwelt,
That caused his freedom, but with this he felt
The danger of the free—­for since that day
No guide had shown, no brethren join’d his way;
Forsaking one, he found no second creed,
But reading doubted, doubting what to read. 
   Still, though reproof had brought some present pain,
The gain he made was fair and honest gain;
He laid his wares indeed in public view,
But that all traders claim a right to do: 
By means like these, he saw his wealth increase,