The Hermit trimm'd his little fire,
And cheer'd his pensive guest:

And spread his vegetable store,
And gaily press'd, and smiled;
And, skill'd in legendary lore,

The lingering hours beguiled.

Around in sympathetic mirth
Its tricks the kitten tries,
The cricket chirrups in 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 opprest:

« And whence, unhappy youth,» he cried, << The sorrows of thy breast?

« From better habitations 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.

« 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.

Surprised 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 confest
A maid in all her charms.

« And ah! forgive a stranger rude,
A wretch forlorn,» she cried;
"Whose feet unhallow'd thus intrude

Where Heaven and

you 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 lived beside the Tyne,

A wealthy lord was he;

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 praised me for imputed charms, And felt, or feign'd a flame.

« Each hour a mercenary crowd
With richest proffers strove;
Amongst the rest young Edwin bow'd,
But never talk'd of love.

<< In humble, simplest habit clad,
No wealth nor power had he;
Wisdom and worth were all he had.
But these were all to me.

« And when, beside me in the dale,
He caroll'd lays of love,

His breath lent fragrance to the gale,
And music to the grove.

<< The blossom opening to the day,
The dews of Heaven refined,

Could nought of purity display
To emulate his mind.

"

« The dew, the blossom on the tree,

With charms inconstant shine;

Their charms were his, but, woe to 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,

« Forbid it, Heaven!» the Hermit cried, And clasp'd her to his breast: The wondering 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,
Restored 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?

No, 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. >>