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“ Alas! the joys that fortune brings,
“ Are trifling and decay; " And those who prize the paltry things,
6 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,
“ But leaves the wretch to weep?
" And love is still an emptier sound,
" The modern fair-one's jest : “On earth unseen, or only found
66 To warm the turtle's nest,
For shame, fond youth, thy sorrows hush,
“ And spurn the sex,” he said : But while he spoke, a rising blush
His love-lorn guest betray'd.
Surpris'd he sees new beauties rise,
Swift mantling to the view;
As bright, as transient too.
The bashful look, the rising breast,
Alternate spread alarms:
A maid in all her charms,
“ And ah! forgive a stranger rude,
“ A wretch forlorn,” she cry'd'; 66 Whose feet unhallow'd thus intrude
6 Where Heav'n and you reside.
« But let a maid thy pity share,
“Wbom love has taught to stray : “ Who seeks for rest, but finds Despair
“ Companion of her way.
“My father liv'd beside the Tyne,
“ A wealthy lord was he; 66 And all his wealth was mark'd as mine,
" He had but only me.
66 To win me from his tender arms
“ Unnumber'd suitors came; 66 Who prais'd me for imputed charms,
“ And felt, or feign'd a flame.
“ Each hour a mercenary crowd
6 With richest proffers strove; “ Amongst the rest young Edwin bow'd
“But never talk'd of love.
“ In humble simplest habit clad,
“ No wealth nor power had he; 66 Wisdom and worth were all he had,
6 But these were all to me.
“ And when, beside me in the dale,
“ He carol'd lays of love, “ His breath lent fragrance to the gale
" And music to the grove.
6 The blossom opening to the day,
“ The dews of Heav'n refin'd, 6 Could nought of purity display
66 To emulate his mind.
“ The dew, the blossom on the tree,
« With charms inconstant shine ; 6. Their charms were his, but wo to me,
“ Their constancy was mine.
« For still I try'd 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,
“ He left me to my pride ; « And sought a solitude forlorn,
" In secret, where he died.
6 But mine the sorrow, mine the fault,
6 And well my life shall pay ; "I'll seek the solitude he sought,
66. And stretch me where he lay,
« And there forlorn despairing hid,
“ I'll lay me down and die; «'Twas so for me that Edwin did,
“ And so for him will 1."
« Forbid it Heav'n!" the Hermit cry'd,
And clasp'd her to his breast : The wond'ring fair one turn'd to chide,
'Twas Edwin's self that prest.
“ Turn, Angelina, ever dear,
“My charmer, turn to see
66 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?
“No never from this hour to part,
« We'll live and love so true; « The sigh that rends thy constant heart,
6 Shall break thy Edwin's too.".
WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD.
THE curfew tolls the knell of parting day;
The lowing herds wind slowly o'er the lea; The ploughman homeward plods his weary way,
And leaves the world to darkness and to me.
Now fades the glimm'ring landscape on the sight,
And all the air a solemn stillness holds ;
And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds.
Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower,
The moping owl does to the moon complain, Of such, as wandring near her secret bower,
Molest her ancient solitary reign.
Beneath these rugged elms, that yew tree's shade,
Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid,
The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.
The breezy call of incense breathing morn,
The swallow, twitt’ring from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion or the echoing horn,
No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed.