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Yet stay fair lady; rest awhile

Beneath this cloyster wall:

See through the hawthorn blows the cold wind, And drizzly rain doth fall.

O ftay me not, thou holy friar 5
O ftay me not I pray ;

No drizzly rain that falls on me,
Can wash my fault away.

Yet ftay, fair lady, turn again,
And dry those pearly tears;
For fee beneath this gown of gray
Thy own true-love appears.

Here forc'd by grief, and hopeless love

These holy weeds I fought:

And here amid thefe lonely walls
To end my days I thought.

But haply for my year of grace
Is not yet pafs'd away,

Might I still hope to win thy love,

No longer would I stay.

Now

Now farewel grief, and welcome joy
Once more unto my heart;

For fince I have found thee, lovely youth,
We never more will part.

PERCY.

URN, gentle hermit of the dale,
And guide my lonely way,

To where yon taper cheers the vale,
With hospitable ray.

For here forlorn and loft I tread,
With fainting fteps and flow;
Where wilds, immeafurably spread,
Seem lengthening as I go.

Forbear, my fon, the hermit cries,
To tempt the dangerous gloom;
For yonder phantom only flies.

To lure thee to thy doom.

Here

Here to the houseless child of want,

My door is open ftill;

And tho' my portion is but fcant,
I give it with good will.

Then turn to-night, and freely share
Whate'er my cell beftows;
My rufhy couch, and frugal fare,
My bleffing and repose.

No flocks that range the valley free,
To flaughter I condemn :
Taught by that power that pities me,
I learn to pity them.

But from the mountain's graffy fide,
A guiltless feaft I bring;

A fcrip with herbs and fruits fupply'd,
And water from the spring.

Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego;
For earth-born cares are wrong:
Man wants but little here below,

Nor wants that little long.

Soft

Soft as the dew from heav'n defcends,

His gentle accents fell:

The modeft ftranger lowly bends,

And follows to the cell.

Far in a wilderness obfcure
The lonely mansion lay;

A refuge to the neighbouring poor,
And ftranger led astray.

No ftores beneath its humble thatch

Requir'd a mafter's care;

The wicket opening with a latch,
Receiv'd the harmless pair.

And now when bufy crowds retire
To revels or to rest,

The hermit trimm'd his little fire,
And cheer'd his penfive guest:

And spread his vegetable store,
And gaily preft, and fmil'd;

And skill'd in legendary lore,
The lingering hours beguil❜d.

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

But nothing could a charm impart
To footh the stranger's woe;
For grief was heavy at his heart,
And tears began to flow.

His rifing cares the hermit 'fpy'd,
With answering cares oppreft:

And whence, unhappy youth, he cry'd,
The forrows of thy breaft?

From better habitations spurn'd,
Reluctant dost thou rove;

Or grieve for friendship unreturn'd,
Or unregarded love?

Alas! the joys that fortune brings,

Are trifling and decay;

And thofe that prize the paltry things,

More trifling still than they.

And

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