« ПредишнаНапред »
"No flocks that range the valley free
"But from the mountain's grassy side A guiltless feast I bring;
A scrip with herbs and fruit supplied, And water from the spring.
“Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego;
Soft as the dew from heaven descends,
The modest stranger lowly bends,
Far in the wilderness obscure
No stores beneath its humble thatch
And now when busy crowds retire
And spread his vegetable store,
And gaily press'd and smil'd; And, skill'd in legendary lore,
The lingering hours beguil❜d.
Around in sympathetic mirth
But nothing could a charm impart,
And tears began to flow.
His rising cares the hermit spied, With answering care oppress'd: "And whence, unhappy youth,” he cried, "The sorrows of thy breast?
"From better habitation spurn'd,
"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,
"And love is still an emptier sound,
"For shame, fond youth; thy sorrows hush, And spurn the sex," he said:
“My father liv'd beside the Tyne; A wealthy lord was he;
And all his wealth was mark'd for mine; He had but only me.
"The dew, the blossom on the tree,
"For still I tried each fickle art, Importunate and vain;
And while his passion touch'd my heart, I triumph'd in his pain.
"And there forlorn, despairing, hid,
"Forbid it, heaven," the hermit cried,
"Turn, Angelina, ever dear,
My charmer, turn to see
"Thus let me hold thee to my heart,
And shall we never, never part,
"No, never from this hour to part,
THE lovely young Lavinia once had friends; And fortune smil'd, deceitful, on her birth: For, in her helpless years, depriv'd of all, Of ev'ry stay, save innocence and heav'n, She, with her widow'd mother, feeble, old, And poor, liv'd in a cottage, far retir'd Among the windings of a woody vale; By solitude and deep surrounding shades, But more by bashful modesty, conceal'd. Together, thus, they shunn'd the cruel scorn,