Thine arm unseen convey'd me safe, Through hidden dangers, toils, and death, 25 It gently clear'd my way, And through the pleasing snares of vice, More to be fear'd than they. When worn with sickness, oft hast thou 30 AN INVITATION TO THE FEATHERED RACE. AGAIN the balmy Zephyr blows, Ye gentle warblers, hither fly, And shun the noontide heat; Here freely hop from spray to spray, Amidst this cool translucent rill, That trickles down the glade, Here bathe your plumes, here drink your fill, 15 And revel in the shade. No school-boy rude, to mischief prone, E'er shows his ruddy face, Or twangs his bow, or hurls a stone, In this sequester'd place. Hither the vocal Thrush repairs, Secure the Linnet sings, The Goldfinch dreads no slimy snares To clog her painted wings. Sad Philomel, ah, quit thy haunt Yon distant woods among, 20 25 And round my friendly grotto chant Let not the harmless Redbreast fear, For you these cherries I protect, To you these plums belong: Sweet is the fruit that you have peck'd, Let then this league betwixt us made Mine be the gift of fruit and shade, Your songs be my reward. EDWIN AND ANGELINA. A BALLAD. "TURN, gentle Hermit of the dale, To where yon taper cheers the vale "For here forlorn and lost I tread, B GRAVES. 40 "Forbear, my son," the Hermit cries, "To tempt the dangerous gloom; For yonder faithless phantom flies To lure thee to thy doom. 10 "Here to the houseless child of want My door is open still; And, though my portion is but scant, 15 "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, Taught by that Power that pities me, "But from the mountain's grassy side A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied, "Then, Pilgrim, turn, thy cares forgo; All earth-born cares are wrong; Man wants but little here below, Nor wants that little long." Soft as the dew from heaven descends, His gentle accents fell; The modest stranger lowly bends, And follows to the cell. Far in a wilderness obscure The lonely mansion lay; A refuge to the neighbouring poor No stores beneath its humble thatch The wicket, opening with a latch. And now, when busy crowds retire 40 45 To soothe 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 spurn'd, Reluctant dost thou rove; Or grieve for friendship unreturn'd, 60 65 |