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His rising cares the hermit spy'd,

With answering care opprest: “ And whence, unhappy youth," he cry'd;

“ The sorrows of thy breast?

« From better habitations spurn'd,

" Reluctant dost thou rove: " Or grieve for friendship unreturn'd,

" Or unregarried love this is 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.

" But leaves the wretch to weep?

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“ 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.

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« For shame, fond youth, thy sorrows hus!,

And spurn the sex," he said: 1 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,
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 cry'd; - 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 '« Coinpanion of her way.

My father liv'd beside the Tyne,

A wealthy lord was he; " And all his wealth was mark'd as mind,

He had hat only me.. - To win me from his tender arms,

“ Unnumber'd suitors came; " Who prais'd 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,

« Nor wealth nor 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 refin'd, “ 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 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 dy'd.

“ But mine the sorrow, mine the fault, " And well

my
life shall

pay;
" I'll seek the solitude he sought,

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 l.”

Forbid it, Heaven!” 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 press'd.

Turn, Angelina, ever dear,

My charmer, turn to see
Thy own, thy long-lost Edwin here,
" Restor'd to love and thee.

Thus let me hold thee to my heart,

“ And ev'ry care resign: " And shall we never, never part,

My life-my all that's mine?

“ No, never from this hour to part;

in We'll live and love so true; The sigh that rends thy constant heart. " Shall break thy Edwin's too."

EUPOLIS HYAIN TO THE CREATOR.

FROM THE GREEK.

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WESTLEY.;, !
AUTHOR of Being, source of light,
With unfading beauties bright,
Fullness, goodness, rolling round

wie
Thy own fair orb without a bound:
Whether thee thy suppliants call
Truth, or Good, or One, or All,
Ei, or lao; thee we hail,
Essence that can never fail,
Grecian or Barbaric name,
Thy stedfast being still the same.

Thee, when morning greets the skies
With rosy cheeks and humid eyes;
Thee, when sweet declining day
Sinks in purple waves away;
Thee will I sing, O parent Jove,
And teach the world to praise and love of

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