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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:
And follows to the cell.
Far in a wilderness obscure
The lonely mansion lay,
And strangers led astray.
No stores beneath its humble thatch
Requir'd a master's care;
Receiv'd the harmless pair.
And now, when busy crowds retire
To take their evening rest,
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 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 unregarded love ?
“ Alas! the joys that fortune brings,
Are trifling and decay;
More trifling still than they
“ And what is friendship but a name,
A charm that lulls to sleep;
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;
As bright, as transient too.
The bashful look, the rising breast,
Alternate spread alarms:
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;
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,
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.