Alone, appald, thus had me paft

The visionary valeWhen lo! the death-bell fmote her ear,

Sad-founding in the gale!

Just then she reach'd, with trembling step,

Her aged mother's door
He's gone! she cry'd; and I shall see

That angel-face no more !

I feel, I feel this breaking heart

Beat high againft my fide From her white arm down funk her head;

She shivering figh'd, and died.

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'URN, gentle hermit of the dale,

« And guide iny lonely way, " To where yon taper cheers the vale,

“ With hofpitable ray.


" For here forlorn and loft I tread,

“ With fainting iteps and flow; " Where wilds immeasurably spread,

“ Seem lengthening as I go."

« Forbear my son," the hermit cries,

“ To tempt the dang'rous gloom ; • For yonder faithleso phantom fijes " To lure thee to thy doom.


6. Here to the houseless child of want,

“ My door is open fill; “ And tho'my portion is but fcant,

“ I give it with good will.

“ Then turn to-night, and freely share

" Whate'er my cell bestows; “ My rushy couch and frugal fare,

My blefling and repose.

“ No flocks that range the valley free,

“ To Naughter I condemn : “ Taught by that power that pities me,

“ I learn to pity them :

“ But from the mountain's graffy side

“ A guiltless feast I bring; “ A scrip with herbs and fruits supply'd,

" And water from the spring.

“ Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego;

« For earth-bory cares are wrong: " Man wants but little here below,

“ Nor wants that little long."

Soft as the dew from heav'n descends,

His gentle accents fell :
The modeft stranger lowly bende,

And follows to the cell.

Far in a wilderness obscure

The lonely manfion lay ;
A refuge to the neighbouring poor,

And stranger's led astray.

No stores beneath its humble thatch

Requir'd a maiter's care ;
The wicket op'ning with a latch,

Receiv'd the harmless pair.

And now when busy crowds retire

To take their evening rest,
The hermit trimm'd his little fire,

And cheer'd his pensive guest ;

And spread his vegetable store,

And gayly prest, and smil'd ; And skill'd in legendary lore,

The ling'ring hour beguild.
Around in fympathetic mirth

Its tricks the kitten tries ;
The cricket chirups in the hearth;

The crackling faggot flies.
But nothing could a charm impart

To footh the franger's woe;
For grief was heavy at his heart,

And tears began to flow.

His rising cares the hermit spy'd,

With answ'ring care oppreft: “ And whence, unhappy youth,” he cry'd,

“ The forrows of tby breast ? “ From better habitations fpurn'd,

16 Reluctant doft thou rove: " Or grieve for friendship unreturn'd,

Or unregarded love? Alas the joys that fortune brings,

“ Are triling and decay ; " And those who prize the paltry things,

" More trifling till than they.

« And what is friendship but a name,

A charm that lulls to sleep'; 66 'A shade that follows wealth or « And 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-loro guest betray'd.

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“ And, ah, forgive a stranger rude,

• A wretch forlorn,” she cry'd; Whore feet unhallow'd thus intrude " Where heaven and



" But let a maid thy pity share,

" Whom love has taught to stray ; 6. Who feeks for rest, but finds defpair

" Companion of her way. « My father liv'd beside the Tyne,

A wealthy 'lord was he ; 56 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.

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