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THE HERMIT. 



And spread his vegetable store, 



And gayly pressed and smiled ; 



And, skilled in legendary lore, 



The lingering hours beguiled. 



Around in sympathetic mirth, 



Its tricks the kitten tries ; 

 The cricket chirrups in the hearth , 



The crackling faggot flies. 



But nothing could a charm impart 

 To sooth 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 spurned, 



Reluctant dost thou rove : 

 Or grieve for friendship unreturned, 



Or unregarded love ? 



1 Alas ! the joys that fortune brings, 



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 ; 

 A shade that follows wealth or fame, 



And 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. 



4 For shame, fond youth ! thy sorrows hush, 

 And spurn the sex !' he said : 



But while he spoke, a rising blush 

 His love-lorn guest betrayed. 



Surprised he sees new beauties rise, 



Swift mantling to the view, 

 Like colours o'er the morning skies, 



As bright, as transient too. 



The bashful look, the rising breast, 

 Alternate spread alarms : 



The lovely stranger stands confest 

 A maid, in all her charms. 



' And, ah, forgive a stranger rude, 

 A wretch forlorn,' she cried ; 



' Whose feet unhallowed 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 lived beside the Tyne, 



A wealthy lord was he ; 

 And all his wealth was marked as mine, 



He had but only me. 



' To win me from his tender arms, 

 Unnumbered suitors came ; 



Who praised me for imputed charms, 

 And felt, or feigned a flame. 



' Each hour a mercenary crowd 

 With richest proffers slrove : 



Among the rest young Edwin bowed, 

 But never talked 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. 



' The blossom opening to the day, 

 The dews of heaven refined, 



Could nought of purity display, 

 To emulate his mind. 



' The dew, the blossoms of the tree, 

 With charms inconstant shine ; 



Their charms were his, but, woe to me I 

 Their constancy was mine. 



' For still I tried each fickle art, 



Importunate and vain ; 

 And while his passion touched my heart, 



I triumphed in his pain : 



