724 ANNUAL REGISTER, 1810. 



Some, heartless, shout, some pity, all condemD> 

 While he in fancied Envy looks at them ! 

 He seems the Place for that sad Act to see, 

 And dreams the very Thirst which then will be : 

 A Priest attends — it seems the one he knew 

 In his best days, beneath whose care he grew. 



At this his Terrors take a sudden flight. 

 He sees his native Village with delight; . 

 The House, the Chamber, where he once array'd 

 His youthful Person ; where he knelt and pray'd : 

 Then too the Comforts he enjoy'd at home, 

 The Days of Joy ; the Joys themselves are come ;— 

 The Hours of Innocence ; — the timid Look 

 Of his lov'd Maid, when first her hand he took 

 And told his hope ; her trembling Joy appears, — 

 Her forced Reserve and his retreating Fears. 



All now is present ; — 'tis a moment's gleam 

 Of former Sunshine — stay, delightful Dream! 

 Let him within his pleasant Garden walk, 

 Give him her Arm, of Blessings let them talk. 



Yes ! all are with him now, and all the while 

 Life's early Prospects and his Fanny's Smile : 

 Then come his Sister and his Village Friend, 

 And he will now the sweetest Moments spend 

 Life has to yield ; — No ! never will he find 

 Again on Earth such Pleasure in his Mind : 

 He goes through shrubby Walks these Friends among^. 

 Love in their Looks and Honour on their Tongue; 

 Nay, there's a Charm beyond what Nature shows. 

 The Bloom is softer and more sweetly glows ; — 

 Pierced by no Crime, and urged by no desire 

 For more than true and honest Hearts require, 

 They feel the calm Delight, and thus proceed 

 Through the green Lane,— then linger in the Mead,— • 

 Stray o'er the Heath in all its purple bloom,— 

 And pluck the Blossom where the Wild-bees hum ; 

 Then through the broomy Bound with ease they pass, 

 And press the sandy Sheep-walk's slender Grass, 

 Where dwarfish Flowers among the Gorse are spread. 

 And the Lamb brouzes by the Linnet's Bed ; 

 Then 'cross the bounding Brook they make their way 

 O'er its rough Bridge — and there behold the Bay ! — 

 The Ocean smiling to the fervid Sun — 

 The Waves that faintly fall and slowly run, 



