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Ring in the valiant man and free,
The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
Ring out the darkness of the land, Ring in the Christ that is to be.
EDWIN AND ANGELINA.—Goldsmith.
“TURN gentle hermit of the dale,
And guide my lonely way,
With hospitable ray.
“For here forlorn and lost I tread,
With fainting steps and slow; Where wilds, immeasurably spread,
Seem lengthening as I go.
“Forbear, my son," the hermit cries,
“To tempt the dangerous gloom ; For yonder faithless phantom flies
To lure thee to thy doom.
“Here, to the houseless child of want,
My door is open still;
I give it with good will.
“ Then turn to-night, and freely share
Whate'er my cell bestows;
My blessing and repose.
“No flocks that range the valley free,
To slaughter I condemn;
I learn to pity them.
“ But from the mountain's grassy side,
A guiltless feast I bring; A scrip, with herbs and fruits supplied,
And water from the spring. “Then, Pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego ;
All earth-born cares are wrong: Man wants but little here below,
Nor wants that little long.”
His gentle accents fell ;
And follows to the cell.
Far in a wilderness obscure,
The lonely mansion lay;
And strangers led astray.
Required a master's care ;
Received the harmless pair.
To take their evening rest,
And cheered his pensive guest;
And gaily pressed and smiled; And, skilled in legendary lore,
The lingering hours beguiled.
Its tricks the kitten tries.;
The crackling faggot flies.
But nothing could a charm impart,
To soothe the stranger's woe;
And tears began to flow.
With answering care opprest:
“The sorrows of thy breast ?
Reluctant dost thou rove?
Or unregarded love?
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 ; On earth unseen, or only found
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 betrayed.
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 cried, “ Whose feet unhallowed thus intrude Where heaven and
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 marked as mine;
He had but only me.
Unnumbered suitors came ;
And felt, or feigned a flame.
With richest proffers strove ; Among the rest, young Edwin bowed,
But never talked of love.
“In humble, simplest habit clad,
No 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 refined, Could nought of purity display,
To emulate his mind,
“The dew, the blossom 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,
Importunate and vain ; And, while his passion touched my heart,
I triumphed 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 ; 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 I.”
“Forbid it heaven !" the hermit cried,
And clasped her to his breast; The wondering fair one turned to chide
'Twas Edwin's self that prest! “Turn Angelina, ever dear,
My charmer, turn to see
Restored to love and thee.
And every care resign ;
My life,-my all that's mine?