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No stores beneath its humble thatch
Required a master's care;
Received the harmless pair.
To take their evening rest,
And cheer'd bis pensive guest:
And gaily press'd, and smiled; And, skill'd in legendary lore,
The lingering hours beguiled.
Its tricks the kitten tries;
The crackling faggot flies.
To sooth the stranger's woe;
And tears began to flow.
With answering care oppress'd : “And whence, unhappy youth,” he cried,
“ The sorrows of thy breast?
Reluctant dost thou rove;
Or unregarded love!
“ Alas! the joys that fortune brings
Are trifling, and decay;
More trifling still than they.
A charm that lulls to sleep ;
And leaves the wretch to weep?
The modern fair one's jest:
To warm the turtle's nest. “For shame, fond youth, thy sorrows hush,
And spurn the sex,” he said:
His lovelorn guest betray'd.
Swift mantling to the view;
As bright, as transient too.
Alternate spread alarms :
A maid in all her charms.
A wretch forlorn,” she cried; “Whose feet unhallow'd 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 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; Among the rest young Edwin bow'd,
But never talk'd 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,
Their constancy was mine.
“ For still I tried each fickle art,
İmportunate and vain; And while his passion touch'd my heart,
I triumph'd in his pain. “ Till, quite dejected with my scorn,
He left me to my pride; And sought a solitude forlorn
In secret where he died. “But mine the sorrow, mine the fault,
And well my life shall pay:
And stretch me where he lay.
I'll lay me down and die ; 'Twas so for me that Edwin did,
And so for him will I." « 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.
r. Turn, Angelina, ever dear,
My charmer, turn to see
Restored to love and thee. “ Thus let me hold thee to my heart,
And every care resign :
My life--my all that's mine?