Miscellaneous Poems. EDWIN AND ANGELINA. TURN, gentle hermit of the dale, For here forlorn and lost I tread, With fainting steps and slow; Where wilds immeasurably spread, Seem lengthening as I go.' 'Forbear, my son,' the Hermit cries, For yonder faithless phantom flies Here to the houseless child of want My door is open still; And though my portion is but scant, 'Then turn to-night, and freely share Whate'er my cell bestows; My rushy couch and frugal fare, My blessing and repose. 'No flocks, that range the valley free, To slaughter I condemn; Taught by that power that pities me, 'But from the mountain's grassy side A guiltless feast I bring; A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied, And water from the spring. Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego; All earth-born cares are wrong: 'Man wants but little here below, Nor wants that little long.' Soft as the dew from heaven descends, Far in a wilderness obscure The lonely mansion lay; A refuge to the neighbouring poor, No stores beneath its humble thatch Required a master's care; The wicket, opening with a latch, Received the harmless pair. And now, when busy crowds retire And spread his vegetable store, And gayly pressed and smiled; And, skilled in legendary lore, The lingering hours beguiled. Around in sympathetic mirth, But nothing could a charm impart His rising cares the Hermit spied, And whence, unhappy youth!' he cried, 'The sorrows of thy breast? From better habitations spurned, Or grieve for friendship unreturned, 'Alas! the joys that fortune brings, And those who prize the paltry things. And what is friendship but a name, A shade that follows wealth or fame, 'And love is still an emptier sound, On earth unseen, or only found 'For shame, fond youth! thy sorrows hush And spurn the sex!' he said: But while he spoke, a rising blush Surprised he sees new beauties rise, Like colours o'er the morning skies, The bashful look, the rising breast, The lovely stranger stands confest A maid, in all her charms. |