<< From better habitations spurn'd,
Reluctant dost thou rove?

Or grieve for friendship unreturn'd,
Or unregarded love?

<«< Alas! the joys that fortune brings
Are trifling, and decay;

And those who prize the paltry things,
More trifling still than they.

<«< And what is friendship but a name,
A charm that lulls to sleep;

A shade that follows wealth or fame,
But leaves the wretch to weep!

« An love is still an emptier sound,
The haughty fair one's jest:
On earth unseen, or only found
To warm the turtle's nest.

«For shame, fond youth, thy sorrows hush,
And spurn the sex,»> he said:
But while he spoke, a rising blush
His love-lorn guest betray'd.

Surpris'd he sees new beauties rise
Swift mantling to the view;
Like colours o'er the morning skies,
As bright, as transient too.

« Acaso de melhor sitio

Foste com pena expulsado?
Por amizade mal pago,
Amor mal recompensado?

« Ah! quão fracos são os gostos
Que a fortuna nos concede!
E quão fraco é quem os ama
Se a fraqueza lhes não mede!....

« Amizade é simples nome
Que os credulos acalenta;
É sombra que segue a pompa,
E que o infortunio afugenta.

<< Mais ouco Amor inda soa,
Debique da perfidía:
Fóra do ninho das rôlas
O seu calor logo esfria.

<< Envergonha-te, mancebo,
O sexo ingrato despreza... >>
Nisto a côr lhe sobe á face,
Em pudico fogo accesa.

Mil encantos apresenta

Esta incognita figura,

Qual sae d'entre nuvens densas

A manhã serena e pura.

The bashful look, the rising breast,
Alternate spread alarms;
The lovely stranger stands confest
A maid in all her charms.

And, «ah! forgive a stranger rude,
A wretch forlorn, » she cry'd,
Whose feet unhallow'd thus intrude
Where heav'n and you reside.

<< But let a maid thy pity share,
Whom love has taught to stray;
Who seeks for rest, but finds despair
Companion of her way.

<< My father liv'd beside the Tyne, A wealthy Lord was he;

And all his wealth was mark'd as mine;

He had but only me.

«To win me from his tender arms,

Unnumber'd suitors came;

Who prais'd me for imputed charms,
And felt or feign'd a flame.

<«< Each hour a mercenary crowd
With richest proffers strove:
Among the rest young Edwin bow'd,
But never talk'd of love.

<< In humble simplest habit clad,
No wealth nor power had he;
Wisdom and worth were all he had,
But these were all to me.

<«< The blossom opening to the day,
The dews of heav'n refin'd,
Could nought of purity display,
To emulate his mind.

<< The dew, the blossom on the tree,
With charms inconstant shine:
Their charms were his, but, woe to me!
Their constancy was mine.