Then, once more, at early morn,
Hand in hand we should be straying,
Where the dewdrop decks the thorn,
With its pearls the woods arraying.

Cold and scornful as thou art,

Love's fond vows and faith belying, Shame for thee now rends my heart, My pale cheek with blushes dying! Why art thou false to me and love? (While health and joy with thee are vanish'd) Is it because forlorn I rove,

Without a crime *, unjustly banish'd?

Safe thy charms with me should rest,
Hither did thy pity send thee;
Pure the love that fills my breast,
From itself it would defend thee.

O, might I call thee now my own!
No added rapture joy could borrow:
"Twould be like heaven, when life is flown,
To cheer the soul and heal its sorrow.

See thy falsehood, cruel maid!

See my cheek no longer glowing; Strength departed, health decay'd; Life in tears of sorrow flowing!

Why do I thus my anguish tell?

Why pride in woe, and boast in ruin? O lost treasure!-fare thee well!

Loved to madness-to undoing.

Ryan was one of the proscribed partisans of James II. and commanded a company of Rapparees.

Yet, O hear me fondly swear!
Though thy heart to me is frozen,
Thou alone, of thousands fair,

Thou alone shouldst be my chosen.

Every scene with thee would please;
Every care and fear would fly me!
Wintry storms and raging seas

Would lose their gloom if thou wert nigh me!

Speak in time, while yet I live;

Leave not faithful love to languish!

O soft breath to pity give,

Ere my heart quite break with anguish.

Ah! what woes are mine to bear,

Life's fair morn with clouds o'ercasting! Doom'd the victim of despair!

Youth's gay bloom pale sorrow blasting!

Sad the bird that sings alone,

Flies to wilds, unseen to languish,
Pours unheard the ceaseless moan,
And wastes on desert air its anguish.

Mine, O hapless bird! thy fate

The plunder'd nest-the lonely sorrow—
The lost, the loved, harmonious mate-
The wailing night-the cheerless morrow!

O thou dear hoard of treasured love!

[thee,

Though these fond arms should ne'er possess Still, still my heart its faith shall prove,

And its last sighs shall breathe to bless thee!

MISS BROOKE.

THE HERMIT.

FROM THE GERMAN OF WIELAND.

REZIA at once entranced in holy bliss,

Awed by his look that beam'd celestial grace,
Bows, as before the genius of the place,

And prints his wrinkled hand with pious kiss;
Touch'd by his gracious mien and friendly air,
His beard that swept his breast, and silver hair,
Her soul the stranger as her sire reveres-
A second look has banish'd all her fears-
Each reads the other's heart, nor finds a stranger
there.

Plain on his noble aspect shone confess'd Grandeur, beneath a cowl that mildly gleam'd; His eye a smile on all creation beam'd:

And though the touch of time had gently press'd
His neck, soft bow'd beneath the weight of years,
Sublimely raised to heaven, his brow appears
The shrine of peace; and like a sun-gilt height,
Where never earthly mist obscured the light,
Above the stormy world its tranquil summit rears.

Time from his features long had worn away
The rust of earth, and passion's gloomy frown:
He would not stoop to grasp a falling crown,
Nor bend the sceptre of a world to sway.
Free from the vain desires that earth enthral,
Free from vain terrors that mankind appal,
Untouch'd by pain, and unassail'd by fear,
To truth alone he turn'd his mental ear:
Alone to nature tuned, and her sweet simple call.

Ere from the storm of life to peace restored,
He call'd himself Alonzo.

Leon bore

The noble infant on her pleasant shore,

And rear'd him for the service of her lord.
And there, with thousands like himself deceived,
He chased the shades, still cheating, still believed,
That tempt the sight, yet still the touch elude,
And like the chemist's stone in vain pursued,
Leave the fond wretch they lured in hopeless
misery grieved.

And when he thus had wasted golden youth
Mid kingly smiles, and in the drunken mood
Of self delusion drain'd his wealth and blood,
With zeal unthank'd, and unacknowledged truth,
In the fair morn of favour's roseate day,
By sudden fall his fetters drop away:

On the wide world's tempestuous ocean cast,
How happy from the storm escaped at last,
To save the wreck of life, a want-devoted prey!
Yet still to cheer him in this wreck of life,
One treasure, source of soothing peace remain'd:
In this he deems all happiness regain'd;
A friend, a cottage, and a faithful wife. [spare,
"O gracious Heaven! but deign these blessings
Spare me but these!' was now his only prayer.
No other wish his happy spirit knew—

Heaven heard-ten years like one too swiftly flew,
Then o'er their tomb he bow'd an image of despair!

Three sons, fair thriving in life's vernal bloom,
The image of his youth, and hope of age,
Are swept away by pestilential rage,

And grief soon lays their mother in the tomb.

What now is left that sighs his sigh to hear, Who, when he weeps, consoles with answering For, ah! his only friend, he too is gone! [tear? Bereft of all he loved he pines alone; [severe ! Lone, in a stranger world, bow'd down with woe

He droops upon the desolated spot,

A lone and leafless tree mid stormy gales:
The fountain of his joy for ever fails—
How insupportable the friendless cot

Where happiness once fix'd her chosen place!
What is the world? a vast and vacant space
For fortune's wheel to roll around at will!
His last loved prop now gone, why linger still?
His sole sad wish a grave, to end his weary race.
Within this void inhospitable seat

Alphonso flew with woe-bewilder'd mind:

And found, what grief had never hoped to find, Peace and content as tardy years retreat. [flown, Though worldlings from the wretch had basely One who Alphonso's prosperous days had known, An old domestic, faithful to his lord,

Cleaves to his side in grief without rewardAnd here their sole retreat, the rude o'erhanging stone.

And by degrees he struggled through the flood
That nigh o'erwhelm'd his soul in hopeless death—
Peace,stillness,temperance,zephyr's balmy breath,
His mind unclouded, purified his blood,

And bade new hope a gleam of joy restore.
And now he felt from Heaven's exhaustless store
That e'en for wounds like his a balsam flow'd:
Felt, when the magic of a sunbeam glow'd,
That nature's charms had power to soothe his soul

once more.

VOL. VI.

L L