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“ Then turn to-night, and freely share

Whate'er my cell bestows; My rushy couch and frugal fare,

My blessing and repose.


“ No flocks that range the valley free

To slaughter I condemn; Taught by that Power that pities me,

I learn to pity them :


“ But from the mountain's grassy side

A guiltless feast I bring 3 A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied,

And water from the spring.


“ Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego z

All earth-born cares are wrong, Man wants but little here below,

Nor wants that little long.


Soft as the dew from heaven descends,

His gentle accents fell:
The modest stranger lowly bends,

And follows to the cell.


Far in a wilderness obscure

The lonely mansion lay,
A refuge to the neighb'ring poor

And strangers led astray.


No stores beneath its humble thatch

Requir'd a master's care;
The wicket, opening with a latch,

Receiv'd the harmless pair.


And now, when busy crowds retire

To take their evening rest,
The hermit trimm'd his little fire,

And cheer'd his pensive guest


And spread his vegetable store,

And gayly press'd, and smil'd; And, skill'd in legendary lore,

The lingering hours beguild,


Around in sympathetic mirth

Its tricks the kitten tries,
The cricket chirrups in the hearth,

The crackling faggot flies.


But nothing could a charm impart

To sooth the stranger's woe; For grief was heavy at his heart,

And tears began to flow.


His rising cares the Hermit spied,

With answering care opprest: " And whence, unhappy youth," he cried,

“ The sorrows of thy breast?


“ 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?


“ And love is still an emptier sound,

The modern 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.


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 cried ; • Whose feet unhallow'd thus intrude Where Heaven and




“ 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; Amongst 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.


“ And when, beside me in the dale,

He carol'd lays of love,
His breath lent fragrance to the gale,

And music to the grove.


“ The blossom opening to the day,

The dews of Heaven 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 wo to me,

Their constancy was mine.


“ For still I tried each fickle art,

Importunate and vain; And while his passion touch'd my heart,

I triumph'd in his pain :


« Till quite dejected with my scorn,

He left me to my pride; And sought a solitude forlorn,

In secret, where he died.

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