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" Each hour a mercenary crowd
“ With richest proffers Atrove “ Among the reft young Edwin bow'd,
« But never talkid of love,
“ In humble, fimpleft habit clad,
“ No wealth or pow'r had he;
". But these were all to me.
" The dews of heav'n refin'd,
" To emulate his mind.
56 The dew, the blossoms of the tree,
" With charms inconstant shine ;
For ftill I try'd each fickle art, 71
“ Importunate and vain ; " And while his paflion touch'd my heart,
“ I triumph'd in his pain.
“ 'Till quite dejected with my scorn,
• He left me to my pride ;
“ In fecret, where he dy'd.
life shall pay;
" But mine the forrow, mine the fault,
" And stretch me where he lay.
“ And there, forlorn, despairing hid,
6 I'll lay me down and die ! “ 'Twas so for me that Edwin did,
" And so for him will I."
• Forbid it, Heav'n !" the hermit cry'd,
And clafp'd her to his breast :
'Twas Edwin's self that prest.
“ Turn, Angelina, ever dear,
“ My charmer, turn to see " Thy own, thy long-loft Edwin here,
" Restor'd to love and thee.
« Thus let me hold thee to my piheart,
" And ev'ry care resign: " And shall we never, never part,
“ My life my all that's mine.
“ No, never, from this hour to part,
6 We'll live and love so true, “ The figh that rends thy constant heart,
“ Shall break thy Edwin's too.
EMOTE, unfriended, melancholy, slow,
Or by the lazy Scheld, or wandering Po;
. I roam, whatever realms to see,
* In this poem feveral alterations were made, and fome new verses added, as it passed through different aditions. We have printed it from the ninth, which was the last edition published in the lifetime of the author.
Eternal blessings crown my earliest friend,
But me, not destin'd such delights to share, My prime of life in wand'ring spent and care : Impell’d, with steps unceafing, to pursue Some flceting good, that mocks me with the view ; That, like the circle bounding earth and skies ; Allures from far, yet, as I follow, fies; My fortune leads to traverse realms alone, And find no spot of all the world my own.
Ev'n now, where Alpine folitudes ascend, I fit me down a pensive hour to spend ; And, plac'd on high above the storm's career, Look downward where an hundred reálms appear ; Lakes, forests, cities, plains extending wide, The pomp of kings, the shepherd's humble pride.
When thus Creation's charms around combine, Amidft the store, should thankless pride repine? Say, should the philofophic mind disdain That good, which makes each humbler bofom vain? Let school-taught pride dissemble all it can, These little things are great to little man ; And wiser he, whose sympathetic mind Exults in all the good of all mankind. Ye glitt'ring towns with wealth and splendor crown'd Ye fields where summer spreads profufion round.
Ye lakes, whose vessels catch the busy gale,
As some lone mifer visiting his store, Bends at his treasure, counts, recounts it o'er; Hoards after hoards his rising raptures fill, Yet still he fighs, for hoards are wanting fill : Thus to my breast alternate paflions rise, Pleas'd with each gnod that heav'n to man supplics : Yet oft a figh prevails, and sorrow's fall, To see the board of human bliss so small; And oft I wish, amidst the scene, to find Some spot to real happiness consign'd, Where my worn-foul, cach wand'ring hope at reit, May gather bliss to see my fellows bleft.
But where to find that happiest spot below,
Nature, a mother kind alike to all,