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The wicket, opening with a latch,
Receiv'd the harmless pair.
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 gaily prest and smild; And, skill'd in legendary lore,
The lingering hours beguild.
Around, in sympathetic mirth,
Its tricks the kitten tries;
The crackling fagot 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 unregarded love?
* Alas! the joys that fortune brings
Are trifling, and decay;
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 hush,
And spurn the sex,' he said ; But, while he spoke, a rising blush
His lovelorn guest betray'd.
Surpris’d, he sees new beauties rise,
Swift mantling to the view;
As bright, as transient too.
The bashful look, the rising breast,
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 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 liv'd 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;
And felt, or feign'd, a flame.
• Each hour a mercenary crowd
With richest proffers strove: Among the rest young Edwin bowd,
But never talk'd of love.
In humble, simplest habit clad,
No wealth or power had he; Wisdom and worth were all he had,
But these were all to me.
68 And when beside me in the dale
He caroll'd lays of love,
And music to the grove.
• The blossom opening to the day,
The dews 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 constancy was mine.
• For still I tried each fickle art,
Importunate and vain ;
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,
And well my life shall pay; I'll seek the solitude he sought,
And stretch me where he lay. 8 And when beside me] This stanza communicated by Richard Archdall, Esg to whom it was given by Goldsmith.
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 prest.
Turn, Angelina, ever dear,
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?
No, never from this hour to part,
We'll live and love so true:
Shall break thy Edwin's too.'
4 RAIMOND ET ANGELINE.
* ENTENS ma voix gémissante,
Habitant de ces vallons!
Qui se perd dans les buissons.
4 From “Les deux Habitants de Lozanne. See Monthly Review, Sept. 1797, and European Magazine, 1802.