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• Forbid it. Hear'n !" the hermit cry!d,
And clasp'd her to his breaft: The wond'ring'fair one türn'd to chide,
'Twas Edwin's self that prett.
" Turn, Angelina, ever dear,
“ My charmer, turn to see " Thy own, thy long-loft Edwin here,
" Restor'd to love and thee.
56 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,
6. We'll live and love so true, « The figh that rends thy constant heart,
“ Shafi break thy Edwin's too.
Or by the lazy Scheld, or wandering Po;
brother turns, with ceaseless pain, And drags at each remove a lengthening chain.
*** In this poem several alterations were made, and some new verses added, as it passed through different edi. tions. We have printed it from the ninth, which was the last edition published in the lifetime of the author.
Eternal blessings crown my earliest friend,
But me, not deftin'd such delights to share,
Ev'n now, where Alpine folitudes afcend,
When thus Creation's charms around combine,
Ye lakes, whose vessels catch the busy gale,
As some lone miser visiting his store, Bends at, his treasure, counts, recounts it o'er; Hoards after hoards his rifing raptures fill, Yet ftill he fighs, for hoards are wanting still : Thue to my breast alternate paffions rife, Pleas'd with each good that heav'n to man supplies : Yet oft a figh prevails, and forrow's fall, To see the hoard of human bliss so small; And oft I wish, amidst the scene, to find Some spot to real happiness consign'd, Where my worn-soul, each wanil'ring hope at rest, May gather bliss to see my fellows bleft.
But where to find that happiest spot below, Who can direct when all pretend to know? The shudd'ring tenant of the frigid zone Boldly proclaims that happieft fpot his own, Extols the treasures of his stormy seas, And his long night of revelry and ease; The naked negro, panting at the line, Boafts of his goklen fands and palmy wine, Basks in the glare, or ftems the tepid wave, And thanks his Gods for all the good they gave. Such is the patriot's boast, where'er we roam, His first best country ever is, at home. And yet, perhaps, if countries we compare And estimate the blessings which they share, Tho' patriots flatter, fill shall wisdom find An equal pertion dealt to all mankind, As different good, by art or nature given, To different nations make their blessings even.
Nature, a mother kind alike to all,
With food as well the peasant is fupply'd
But let us view these truths with closer eyes, And trace them through the prospect as it lies : Here for a while my proper cares resign'd, Here let me fit in sorrow for mankind, Like yon neglected shrub at random cast, That shades the steep, and fighs at ev'ry blast.
Far to the right where Appennine ascends, Bright as the summer, Italy extends'; Its uplands Noping deck the mountain's fide, Woods over woods in gay theatric pride; While oft fome temple's mould'ring top between, With venerable grandeur marks the scene.
Could nature's bounty satisfy the breast, The sons of Italy were surely blest. Whatever fruits in different climes were found, That proudly rife, or humbly court the ground; Whatever blooms in torrid tracts appear, Whofe bright succession decks the varied year; Whatever sweets salute the northern sky With vernal lives that blossom but to die;