*

from one by the ingenious Mr. Percy. I do not

think there is any great resemblance between the two pieces in question. If there be any, his ballad is taken from mine. I read it to Mr. Percy some years ago; and he (as we both considered these things as trifles at best) told me, with his usual good humour, the next time I saw him, that he had taken my plan to form the fragments of Shakespeare into a ballad of his own. He then read me his little Cento, if I may so call it, and I highly approved it. Such petty anecdotes as these are scarce worth printing: and, were it not for the busy disposition of some of your correspondents, the Public should never have known that he owes me the hint of his ballad, or that I am obliged to his friendship and learning for communications of a much more important nature.

I am, SIR,

Yours, &c.

OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

* The Friar of Orders Gray. "Reliq. of Anc. Poetry,"

vol. i. p. 243.

THE HERMIT.

66

TURN, gentle Hermit of the dale,

"And guide my lonely way

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

"For here forlorn and lost I tread,

"With fainting steps and slow; "Where wilds immeasurably spread, "Seem length'ning as I go.”

"Forbear, my son," the Hermit cries, "To tempt the dangerous gloom; "For yonder faithless phantom flies, "To lure thee to thy doom.

"Here to the houseless child of want

"My door is open still

;

"And though my portion is but scant, "I give it with good will.

"Then turn to-night, and freely share

"Whate'er my cell bestows; "My rushy couch and frugal fare, "My blessing, and repose.

"No flocks that range the valley free,

"To slaughter I condemn ;

"Taught by that Power that pities me,

"I learn to pity them:

"But from the mountain's grassy side

"A guiltless feast I bring;

"A scrip, with herbs and fruits supply'd,

"And water from the spring.

"Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego;

"All earth-born cares are wrong: "Man wants but little here below, "Nor wants that little long."

Soft as the dew from heav'n 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 neighb'ring poor,
And strangers led astray.

No stores beneath its humble thatch

Requir'd a master's care;

The wicket op'ning with a latch,

Receiv'd the harmless pair.

And now, when busy crowds retire,

To take their evening rest,

The Hermit trimm'd his little fire,

And cheer'd his pensive guest l

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 sooth the stranger's woe;

For grief was heavy at his heart,
And tears began to flow.