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Full oft had the year made the forest bough bare,
When the good man grew faint with disease : "Twas then he first trusted his son from his care, Alone thro' the forest, to find for him there,
Some simples his anguish to ease.
Ah! luckless the time, that all wild with dismay
Thou rovest adventurous alone! No medicine fond youth ! did thy searches repay, That might ease of his anguish thy father that day,
No herb that would soften thine own.
To the forest's green verge all unknowing he came, Where two females first met his
young sight : Unusual commotion then shot thro' his frame, He felt a new passion he could not well name,
And pined for some unknown delight.
They vanishid, and back.to his far-distant home,
He wander'd in pensive surmise ; The herbs from his scrip, to his father were shown : But O! cried the Youth, as he fetch'd a deep groan,
What vision has dazzleď mine eyes ?
Some vision, I fear son, that bodes thee no good!
But prithee the wonder declare. Two lovely white forms pass'd the tree where I stood, And glided so softly away in the wood,
They seem'd to dissolve in the air.
Ah ! talk not so fondly of what thou hast seen,
They are fairies that haunt the wood side! Ah! shun them as serpents that coil on the green, Or they'll wound thee with arrows tormenting and keen,
Then sorely thy sufferings deride.
Dear Youth ! thou hast seen me all sorrowful steal
To the hillock beside our low Cot;
O lay me to rest in that spot.
But remember my counsel when silent and low,
All remembrance of me may subside :
The fairies that haunt the wood side !
He died and was buried the
hillock nigh, That rose by the side of the Cot. Then the Youth for some unknown delight heaved a sigh, The forest's wild beauties no more pleased his eye,
And the counsel of age was forgot.
'Tis said, the next morn he arose with the day,
To seek where the vision he spied :
The fairies that haunt the wood side.
The BATTLE of PULTOWA.
On Vorskas glittering waves
Where to the fight he moves
Him Famine hath not tamed
Him Winter hath not quell’d,
Frozen to their endless sleep,
What tho' he mounts not now
The fiery steed of war,
Go iron-hearted King!
Go iron-hearted King!
Proud Swede, the Sun hath risen
Now bend thine head from heaven,
His veteran host subdued,
He flies before the foe!