Shep. “Welcome, Wanderer as thou art,

All my blessings to partake;
Yet thrice welcome to my heart,
For thine injured country's sake.

On the western hills afar

Evening lingers with delight,
While she views her favourite star
Brightening on the brow of night.

Here, though lowly be my lot,
Enter freely, freely share
All the comforts of my cot,
Humble shelter, homely fare.

Spouse! I bring a suffering guest,
With his family of grief;
Give the weary pilgrims rest,
Yield the Exiles sweet relief!"

Shepo's Wife. “ I will yield them sweet relief:

Weary pilgrims! welcome here;
Welcome, family of grief!
Welcome to my warmest cheer.".

Wand. “ When in prayer the broken heart

Asks a blessing from above,
Heaven shall take the Wanderer's part,
Heaven reward the stranger's love."

Shep. “ Haste, recruit the failing fire,

High the winter-faggots raise:
See the crackling flames aspire;
O how cheerfully they blaze!

Mourners ! now forget your cares,
And, till supper-board be crown'd,
Closely draw your fire-side chairs ;
Form the dear domestic round."

Wand. “ Host! thy smiling daughters bring, ..

Bring those rosy lads of thine:
Let them mingle in the ring
With these poor lost babes of mine."

Shep. “ Join the ring, my girls and boys;

This enchanting circle, this,
Binds the social loves and joys;
'Tis the fairy-ring of bliss !"

Wand. "O

ye

loves and joys ! that sport
In the fairy-ring of bliss,
Oft with me ye

held

your court; I had once a home like this !

Bountiful

my

former lot
As my native country's rills;
The foundations of my cot.
Were her everlasting hills,

But those streams no longer pour
Rich abundance round

my

lands; And my

father's cot no more On my

father's mountain stands.

By an hundred winters piled,
When the Glaciers,* dark with death,
Hang o'er precipices wild,
Hang-suspended by a breath:

If a pulse but throb alarm,
Headlong down the steeps they fall;
-For a pulse will break the charm,
Bounding, bursting, burying all.

Struck with horror stiff and pale,
When the chaos breaks on high,
All that view it from the vale,
All that hear it coming, die :-

In a day and hour accurst,
O'er the wretched land of TELL,
Thus the Gallic ruin burst,
Thus the Gallic glacier fell!"

Shep.“ Hush that melancholy strain ;

Wipe those unavailing tears :" Wand. “ Nay-I must, I will complain ;

'Tis the privilege of years:

'Tis the privilege of Woe,
Thus her anguish to impart :
And the tears that freely flow
Ease the agonizing heart."