"Each hour a mercenary crowd

"With richest proffers strove: "Among the rest young Edwin bow'd, "But never talk'd of love.

"In humble fimpleft habit clad,
"No wealth nor power had he;

"Wisdom and worth were all he had,
"But these were all to me.

"The bloffom opening to the day "The dews of heaven refin'd, "Could nought of purity difplay,

"To emulate his mind.

"The dew, the bloffom on the tree,

"With charms inconstant shine; "Their charms were his, but woe to me, "Their conftancy was mine.

"For ftill I try'd each fickle art,

"Importunate and vain;

"And while his paffion touch'd my heart, "I triumph'd in his pain.

"Till quite dejected with my scorn,

"He left me to my pride;

"And fought a folitude forlorn,

"In fecret, where he died.

"But mine the forrow, mine the fault,
"And well my life fhall pay,
"I'll feek the folitude he fought,

"And ftretch me where he lay.

"And there forlorn, despairing, hid,
"I'll lay me down and die:
"'Twas fo for me that Edwin did,
"And fo for him will I."

"Forbid it, Heaven!" the hermit cry'd, And clafp'd her to his breast: The wondering fair one turn'd to chide, 'Twas Edwin's felf that preft.

"Turn, Angelina, ever dear,

"My charmer, turn to see,

"Thy own, thy long loft Edwin here, "Reftor'd to love and thee.

"Thus let me hold thee to my heart, "And ev'ry care resign:

"And fhall we never, never part,

"My life,---my all that's mine.

"No, never from this hour to part, "We'll live and love fo true;

"The figh that rends thy constant heart, "Shall break thy Edwin's too."

HYMN TO HUMANITY.

BY DR. LANGHORNE.

1.

PARENT of virtue, if thine ear

Attend not now to forrow's cry;

If now the pity-streaming tear

Should haply on thy cheek be dry;

Indulge my votive strain, O sweet Humanity!

II.

Come, ever welcome to my breast!

A tender but a cheerful guest;

Nor always in the gloomy cell
Of life confuming forrow dwell;
For forrow, long indulg'd and flow,

Is to Humanity a foe;

And grief, that makes the heart its prey,

Wears fenfibility away.

Then comes, fweet Nymph, instead of thee,

The gloomy fiend Stupidity.

III.

O may that fiend be banish'd far,
Though paffions hold eternal war!
Nor ever let me cease to know

The pulfe that throbs at joy or woe;

Nor let my vacant cheek be dry,
When forrow fills a brother's eye;
Nor may the tear that frequent flows
From private or from focial woes,
E'er make this pleasing sense depart.
Ye Cares, O harden not my heart!

IV.

If the fair ftar of fortune smile,
Let not it's flattering power beguile,
Nor, borne along the fav'ring tide,
My full fails fwell with bloating pride.
Let me from wealth but hope content,
Remembering still it was but lent;
To modeft merit fpread my store,
Unbar my hofpitable door;
Nor feed, with pomp, an idle train,
While Want unpitied pines in vain,

V.

If Heaven, in every purpose wise,
The envied lot of wealth denies;
If doom'd to drag life's painful load
Through poverty's uneven road,
And, for the due bread of the day,
Deftin'd to toil as well as pray;
To thee, Humanity, ftill true,
I'll with the good I cannot do,
And give the wretch that passes by,
A foothing word-----a tear-----a sigh.

VI.

Howe'er exalted, or depreft

Be ever mine the feeling breast.

From me remove the stagnant mind
Of languid indolence, reclin'd;

The foul that one long fabbath keeps,
And through the fun's whole circle fleeps;
Dull peace, that dwells in folly's eye,
And felf-attending vanity.

Alike the foolish and the vain

Are strangers to the fenfe humane.

VII.

O for that fympathetic glow

Which taught the holy tear to flow,
When the prophetic eye furvey'd
Sion in future ashes laid!

Or, rais'd to heaven, implor'd the bread.
That thousands in the defart fed!

Or, when the heart o'er friendship's grave

Sigh'd and forgot its power to fave,
O for that fympathetic glow

Which taught the holy tear to flow!

VIII.

It comes: it fills my labouring breast;

I feel my beating heart oppreft.

Oh! hear that lonely widow's wail!

See her dim eye! her afpect pale!

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