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Around in sympathetic mirth
Its tricks the kitten tries,
The crackling faggot flies.
But nothing could a charm impart
To soothe the strangers woe; For grief was heavy at his heart,
And tears began to flow.
His rising cares the Hermit spy'd,
With answ'ring 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 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.
Surpriz'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 cry'd; 6 Whose feet unhallow'd thus intrude “ Where Heav'n 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; 6 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 praisd 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 mein the dale,
“ He carold lays of love, “ His breath lent fragrance to the gale,
• And music to the grove.
i6 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,
os With charins inconstant shine; 66 Their charms were his, but woe 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.
* This stanza, never before printed, was communicated by Richard Archdal, Esq. who received it from the Author himself.
« Till quite dejected with my scorn,
“ He left me to my pride; “ And sought a solitude forlorn,
“ In secret where he dy’d.
“ 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.
XXXVI. " 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."
And clasp'd her to his breast :
'Twas Edwin's self that prest.
XXXVIII. “ Turn, Angelina, ever dear,
“ My charmer turn to see “ Thy own, thy long-lost Edwin here,
« Restor'd to love and thee.