“ Forbid it, Heav'n!" the hermit cry'd,

And clasp'd her to his breaft:
The wond'ring fair one turn'd to chide,

'Twas Edwin's self that preft.

“ Turn, Angelina, ever dear,

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

" Restor'd to love and thee.

66 Thus let me hold thee to my heart,

“ And ev'ry care refign: « 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 figb that rends thy constant heart,

“ Shall break thy Edwin's too.

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Or by the lazy Scheld, or wandering Po;
Or onward, where the rude Carinthian boor,
Against the houseless stranger shuts the door ;
Or where Campania's plain forsaken lies,
A weary waste expanding to the skies ;
Where'er I roam, whatever realms to see,
My heart untravell’d fondly turns to thee :
Still to my 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 editions.-We have printed it from the ninth, which was the last edition published in the lifetime of the author,

Eternal bleflings crown my earlieft friend,
And round his dwelling guardian faints attend ;
Bleft be that spot, where chearful guests retire
To pause from toil, and trim their ev'ning fire ;
Bleft that abode, where want and pain repair,
And ev'ry stranger finds a ready chair.
Bleft be those feasts with simple plenty crown'd,
Where all the ruddy family around
Laugh at the jests or pranks that never fail,
Or figh with pity at some mournful tale,
Or press the bashful ftranger to his food,
And learn the luxury of doing good.

But me, not deftin'd fuch delights to share,
My prime of life in wand'ring spent and care :
Impell’d, with steps unceasing, to pursue
Some fleeting good, that mocks me with the view;
That, like the circle bounding earth and skies;
Allures from far, yet, as I follow, flies ;
My fortune leads to traverse realms alone,
And find no fpot of all the world my own.

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Ev'n now, where Alpine folitudes afcend,
I fit me down a pensive hour to spend ;
And, plac'd on high above the storm's career,
Look downward, where an hundred realms appear ;
Lakes, forests, cities, plains extending wide,
The pomp of kings, the shepherd's humble pride.

When thus Creation's charms around combine,
Amidst the store, should thanklefs pride repine ?
Say, should the philosophic mind disdain
That good, which makes each humbler bosom vain?
Let school-taught pride dissemble all it can,
Thefe little things are great to little man ;
And wifer he, whose sympathetic mind
Exults in all the good of all mankind.
Ye glitt'ring towns with wealth and splendor crown'd
Ye fields where summer spreads profusion round.

Ye lakes, whose vessels catch the busy gale,
Ye bending fwains, that dress the flow'ry vale,
For me your tributary stores combine ;
Creation’s heir, the world, the world is mine.

As some lone miser visiting his store, Bends at his treasure, counts, recounts it o'er; Hoards after hoards his rising raptures fill, Yet ftill he fighs, for hoards are wanting still : Thus to my breaft alternate paflions rife, Pleas'd with each good that heav'n to man supplies : Yet oft a figh prevails, and sorrows 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-foul, each wand'ring hope at reft, 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 happiest spot his own, Extols the treasures of his stormy seas, And his long night of revelry and ease ; The naked negro, panting at the line, Boasts of his golden sands 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, ftill shall wisdom find An equal portion dealt to all mankind, As different good, by art or nature given, To different nations make their blesfings even.

Nature, a mother kind alike to all,
Still grants her bliss at labour's earnest call ;

With food as well the peasant is supply'd
On Idra's cliffs a6 Arno's shelry side ;
And though the rocky crested summits frown,
These rocks, by custom, turn to beds of down.
From art more various are the blessings sent ;
Wealth, commerce, honour, liberty, content.
Yet these each other's pow'r so strong contest,
That either seems destructive of the reft.
Where wealth and freedom reign contentment fails,
And honour finks where commerce long prevails.
Hence ev'ry state to one lov'd blessing prone,
Conform and models life to that alone.
Each to the fav’rite happiness attends,
And spurns the plan that aims at other ends ;
'Till, carried to excess in each domain,
This fav’rite good begets peculiar pain.

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 caft,
That shades the steep, and fighs at ev'ry blast.

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Far to the right where Appennine ascends,
Bright as the summer, Italy extends ;
Its uplands Doping 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 fons of Italy were surely bleft.
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 ;

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