« ForrigeFortsett »
“Forbear, my son,” the hermit cries,
“ To tempt the dangerous gloom ; For yonder phantom only flies
To lure thee to thy doom.
My door is open still ;
I give it with good will.
Whate'er my cell bestows-
My blessing and repose. “ No flocks that range the valley free
To slaughter I condemn :
I learn to pity them.
A guiltless feast I bring ;
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."
His gentle accents fell :
And follows to the cell.
Far in the wilderness obscure
The lonely mansion lay:
And stranger led astray.
No stores beneath its humble thatch
Requir'd a master's care ;
Receiv'd the harmless pair.
To revels or to rest,
And cheer'd his pensive guest;
And gaily press’d and smild; And, skill'd in legendary lore,
The lingering hours beguild.
Its tricks the kitten tries;
The crackling faggot flies.
To soothe the stranger's woe;
And tears began to flow.
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 unregarded love?
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;
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 bush,
And spurn the sex,” he said: But while he spoke, a rising blush
His love-lorn guest betray'd.
Swift mantling to the view;
As bright, as transient too.
Alternate spread alarms,
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
reside. “But let a maid thy pity share,
Whom love has taught to stray ;
Companion of her way.
A wealthy lord was he;
He had but only me.
" To win me from his tender arms,
Unnumber'd suitors came;
And felt or feign'd a flame.
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 wore 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.
“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.
He left me to my pride ;
In secret, where he died.
And well my
And stretch me where he lay.
life shall pay ;
“ And there forlorn, despairing, hid,
I'll lay me down and die ;
And so for him will I.”
“ Forbid it, heaven,” the hermit cried,
And clasp'd her to his breast :
'Twas Edwin's self that press’d.
My charmer, turn to see
Restor'd to love and thee.
“ Thus let me hold thee to my heart,
And every care resign:
My life my all that's mine?
We'll live and love so true;
Shall break thy Edwin's too."
THE lovely young Lavinia once had friends ; And fortune smil'd, 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, And 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 shunn'd the cruel scorn,