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· Forbear, my son,” the hermit cries,

“ To tempt the dangerous gloom ; For yonder phantom only flies

To lure thee to thy doom. * Here to the houseless child of want My door is

open And though my portion is but scant,

I give it with good will.

still ;

Then turn to-night, and freely share

Whate'er my cell bestowsMy 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; A scrip with herbs and fruit supplied,

And water from the spring. " Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego;

For earth-born cares are wrong: Man wants but little here below,

Nor wants that little long."
Soft as the dew from heaven descenda,

His gentle accents fell :
The modest stranger lowly bende,

And follows to the cell.

Far in the wilderness obscure

The lonely mansion lay:
A refuge to the neighb'ring poor,

And stranger led astray.

No stores beneath its humble thatch

Requir'd a master's care ;
The wicket opening with a latch

Receiv'd the harmless pair.
And now when busy crowds retire

To revels or to rest,
The hermit trimm'd his little fire,

And cheer'd his pensive guest ;
And spread his vegetable store,

And gaily 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 cricket chirps upon the hearth;

The crackling faggot flies.
But nothing could a charm impart

To soothe 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 oppress'd :
“ And whence, unhappy youth,” he cried,

"The sorrows of thy breast ?
“ From better habitation 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.


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" 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.
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 confess'd

A maid in all her charms.

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And, ah! forgive a stranger rude,

A wretch forlorn,” she cried ; " Whose feet unhallow'd thus intrude, Where heaven and


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 for 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 the mercenary crowd

With richest presents strove: Among the rest, young Edwin bow'd,

But never talk'd of love.

“ In humblest, 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 dew of heaven refin'd, Could nought of purity display,

To emulate his mind.

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“ The dew, the blossom on the tree,

With charms inconstant shine ; Their charms were his, but, woe is 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.
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, bid.

I'll lay me down and die ;
'Twas so for me that Edwin did,

And so for him will I."
Forbid it, heaven,” the hermit cried.

And clasp'd her to his breast :
The wond’ring fair one turn’d to chide ;

'Twas Edwin's self that press'd.
“ Turn, Angelina, ever dear,

My charmer, turn to see
Thy own, thy long-lost Edwin here,

Restor'd to love and thee.
" Thus let me hold thee to my heart,

And every care resign:
And shall we never, never part,
My life—my all that's mine?

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."



The lovely young Lavinia once had friends ; And fortune smild, deceitful, on her birth : For, in her helpless years, depriv'd of all, Of ev'ry stay, save innocence and heav'n, She, with her widow'd mother, feeble, old, poor,

liv'd in a cottage, far retir'd Among the windings of a woody vale; By solitude and deep surrounding shades, But more by bashful modesty, conceal'd, Together, thus, they shunnid the cruel scorn,


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