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,
And strangers led astray.

No stores beneath its humble thatch
Required a master's care;
The wicket, opening with a latch,
Received the harmless pair.

And now, when busy crowds retire
To take their evening rest,
The hermit trimmed his little fire
And cheered his pensive guest;

And spread his vegetable store,
And gaily pressed, and smiled;
And skilled in legendary lore

The lingering hours beguiled.

Around, in sympathetic mirth,
Its tricks the kitten tries;
The cricket chirrups in the hearth,
The crackling faggot flies.

But nothing could a charm impart
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 spurned, Reluctant dost thou rove?

Or grieve for friendship unreturned,
Or unregarded love?

Alas! the joys that fortune brings
Are trifling and decay ;

And those who prize the paltry things,
More trifling still than they.

66

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 betrayed.

Surprised 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 cried;
"Whose feet unhallowed 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 marked as mine;

He had but only me.

"To win me from his tender arms,
Unnumbered suitors came,

Who praised me for imputed charms,
And felt or feigned a flame.

"Each hour a mercenary crowd

With richest proffers strove;

Among the rest young Edwin bowed,
But never talked of love.

"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 wond'ring fair one turned to chide,'Twas Edwin's self that prest!

"Turn, Angelina, ever dear,

My charmer, turn to see

Thy own, thy long-lost Edwin here,
Restored to love and thee!

"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 Shall break thy Edwin's too."