<< And what is friendship but a name, A charm that lulls to sleep; A shade that follows wealth or fame, « And love is still an emptier sound, << For shame, fond youth, thy sorrows hush, Surprised he sees new beauties rise, The bashful look, the rising breast, « And ah! forgive a stranger rude, << 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 mark'd as mine, He had but only me. «To win me from his tender arms, Unnumber'd suitors came; Who praised me for imputed charms, And felt, or feign'd a flame. << Each hour a mercenary crowd With richest proffers strove; Amongst the rest young Edwin bow'd, But never talk'd of love. << In humble, simplest habit clad, « And when, beside me in the dale, His breath lent fragrance to the gale, << The blossom opening to the day, The dews of Heaven refined, Could nought of purity display To emulate his mind. « The dew, the blossom on the tree, With charms inconstant shine; Their charms were his, but, woe to me! Their constancy was mine. « For still I tried each fickle art, Importunate and vain; And while his passion touch'd my heart, I triumph'd in his pain: « Till quite dejected with my scorn, « But mine the sorrow, mine the fault, I'll seek the solitude he sought, « And there forlorn, despairing, hid, « Forbid it, Heaven!» the Hermit cried, And clasp'd her to his breast: The wondering fair one turn'd to chide'Twas Edwin's self that press'd. << Turn, Angelina, ever dear, My charmer, turn to see Thy own, thy long-lost Edwin here, << Thus let me hold thee to my heart, And every care resign: And shall we never, never part, My life my all that's mine? life—my « No, never from this hour to part, We'll live and love so true; The sigh that rends thy constant heart, Shall break thy Edwin's too."> AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG.' I Good people all, of every sort, Give ear unto my song, In Islington there was a man, A kind and gentle heart he had, When he put on his clothes. This, and the following poem, appeared in « The Vicar of Wakefield,» which was published in the year 1765. |