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The wight, whose tale these artless lines unfold,
The gossip's prayer for wealth, and wit, and worth ; And one long summer-day of indolence and mirth.
And yet poor Edwin was no vulgar boy ;
The neighbours star'd and sigh’d, yet bless’d the lad; Some deem'd him wondrous wise, and some believ'd
But why should I his childish feats display?
There would he wander wild, till Pæbus' beam, Shot from the western cliff, releas'd the weary team.
The exploit of strength, dexterity, or speed,
Tyrant far less, or traitor of the field;
LỌ! where the stripling, wrapt in wonder, roves
For aught the huntsman's puny craft supplies?
And oft he trac'd the uplands to survey,
And villager abroad at early toil.
And oft the craggy cliff he lov'd to climb,
And hear the voice of mirth and song rebound, Flocks, herds, and waterfalls, along the hoar profound.
In truth he was a strange and wayward wight,
And down his cheek a tear of pity roll,
“Oye wild groves,-0 where is now your bloom!" (The Muse interprets thus his tender thought-) “Your flowers, your verdure, and your balmy gloom, “Of late so grateful in the hour of drought! “Why do the birds, that song and rapture brought “ To all your bowers, their mansions now forsake? “ Ah! why has fickle chance this ruin wrought?
“For now the storm howls mournful thro' the brake, “And the dead foliage flies in many a shapeless flake.
“ Where now the rill, melodious, pure, and cool, “ And meads, with life, and mirth, and beauty
crown'd! “Ah! see the unsightly slime, and sluggish pool, " Have all the solitary vale imbrown'd; “Fled each fair form, and mute each melting sound; “The raven croaks forlorn on naked spray : “ And, hark! the river burs every
“Down the vale thunders, and with wasteful sway “Uproots the grove, and rolls the shatter'd rocks away.
“ Yet such the destiny of all on earth: “So flourishes and fades majestic Man. “ Fair is the bud his vernal morn brings forth, “ And fostering gales awhile the nursling fan. “O smile, ye heavens, serene! ye mildews wan, “ Ye blighting whirlwinds, spare his balmy prime, 66 Nor lessen of his life the little span.
“Borne on the swift, tho’ silent, wings of Time, “Old-age comes on apace to ravage all the clime.
66 And be it so. Let those deplore their doom, “Whose hope still grovels in this dark sojourn. « But lofty souls, who look beyond the tomb, “Can smile at Fate, and wonder how they mourn. “Shall spring to these sad scenes no more return? “ Is yonder wave the sun's eternal bed? “ Soon shall the orient with new lustre burn,
“ And spring shall soon her vital influence shed; " Again attune the grove, again adorn the mead.
“Shall I be left abandoned in the dust, “When Fate, relenting, lets the flower revive ? “Shall Nature's voice, to man alone unjust, “Bid him, tho' doom'd to perish, hope to live ? "Is it for this fair Virtue oft must strive “With disappointment, penúry, and pain?“No; Heaven's immortal spring shall yet arrive;
6 And man's majestic beauty bloom again, (reign.” « Bright thro' the eternal year of Love's triumphant
This truth sublime his simple sire had taught, In sooth, 'twas almost all the shepherd knew, No subtle nor superfluous lore he sought, Nor ever wish'd his Edwin to pursue. [view, “ Let man's own sphere,” quoth he, “confine his “ Be man's peculiar work his sole delight.” And much, and oft, he warnd him to eschew
Falsehood and guile, and aye maintain the right, By pleasure unsubdued, unawed by lawless might.
“And, from the prayer of Want, and plaint of Wo, “O never, never turn away thine ear, “Forlorn in this bleak wilderness below, "Ah! what were man, should Heaven refuse to hear! “To others do (the law is not severe) “What to thyself thou wishest to be done. “Forgive thy foes; and love thy parents dear,
« And friends and native land; nor those alone; 6 All human weal and wo learn thou to make thine