« No flocks that range the valley free

To slaughter I condemn : Taught by that pow'r that pities me, I learn to pity them.

« But from the mountain's grassy side, A guiltless feast I bring;

A scrip with herbs and fruits supply'd, And water from the spring.

«

Then, pilgrim, turn; thy cares forego, All earth-born cares are wrong:

Man wants but little here below,

Nor wants that little long›

Soft as the dew from heav'n 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, op'ning with a latch,
Receiv'd the harmless pair.

And now, when busy crowds retire
To take their ev'ning rest,
The hermit trimm'd his little fire,
And cheer'd his pensive guest:

And spread his vegetable store,

And gayly prest, and smil'd;

And skill'd in legendary lore,
The ling ring hours beguil'd.

Around in sympathetick 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 spy'd, With answering care opprest: « And whence, unhappy youth », he cry'd, << 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 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..

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
Whère 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.

« For still I try'd each fickle art, Importunate and vain;

And, while his passion touch'd my heart, I triumph'd in his pain.

« Till quite dejected by my scorn,
He left me to my pride;
And sought a solitude forlorn,
In secret where he died.

« But mine the sorrow, mine the fault,
And well my life shall pay:

I'll seek the solitude he sought,
And stretch me where he lay.

And there forlorn, despairing, hid,
I'll lay me down, and die :
"Twas so for me that Edwin did,
And so for him will I ».

« Forbid it, heav'n!» the hermit cry'd,
And clasp'd her to his breast.
The wand'ring fair one turn'd to chide,
'Twas Edwin's self that prest.

« Thus let me hold thee to my heart,
And ev'ry care resign :

And shall we never, never part,
My life, my all that's mine!

=

No, never, from this hour to part,
We'll live and love so true;

The sigh that rends thy constant heart
Shall break thy Edwin's too ».

While this ballad was reading, Sophia seemed to mix an air of tenderness with her approbation. But our tranquillity was soon disturbed by the report of a gun just by us; and immediately after, a man was seen bursting through the hedge, to take up the game he had killed. This sportsman was the 'Squire's chaplain, who had shot one of the blackbirds that so agreeably entertained us. So loud a report, and so near, startled my daughters; and I could perceive that Sophia in the fright had thrown herself into Mr. Burchell's arms for protection. The gentleman came up, and asked pardon