His rising cares the Hermit spy'd,

With answering care opprest:

"And whence, unhappy youth," he cry'd, "The sorrows of thy breast?

"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 those who prize the paltry things, "More trifling still than they..

"And what is friendship but a name, "A charm that lulls to sleep;

"A shade that follows wealth or fame,

"But leaves the wretch to weep?

"And love is still an emptier sound,

"The modern fair-one's jest ;

"On earth unseen, or only found "To warm the turtle's nest.

"For shame, fond youth, thy sorrows hush, "And spurn the sex," he said:

But while he spoke, a rising blush
His love-lorn guest betray'd.

Surpris'd he sees new beauties rise,
Swift mantling to the view;

Like colours o'er the morning skies,
As bright, as transient too.

The bashful look, the rising breast,
Alternate spread alarms :

The lovely stranger stands confest

A maid in all her charms.

And, "Ah, forgive a stranger rude, "A wretch forlorn," she cry'd;

"Whose feet unhallow'd thus intrude "Where heav'n and you reside.

"But let a maid thy pity share,
"Whom love has taught to stray;
"Who seeks for rest, but finds despair
"Companion of her way.

"My father liv'd beside the Tyne,

"A wealthy lord was he;

"And all his wealth was mark'd as mine;

"He had but only me.

"To win me from his tender arms,

"Unnumber'd suitors came;

"Who prais'd me for imputed charms, "And felt, or feign'd, a flame.

"Each hour a mercenary crowd

"With richest proffers strove :

"Among the rest young Edwin bow'd, "But never talk'd of love.

"In humble, simplest habit clad,
"Nor wealth nor power had he;'
"Wisdom and worth were all he had,
"But these were all to me.

"The blossom opening to the day,
“The dews of heav'n refin'd,
"Could nought of purity display,
"To emulate his mind.

"The dew, the blossom on the tree,

"With charms inconstant shine;

"Their charms were his, but, woe to me!

"Their constancy was mine.

"For still I try'd each fickle art,

"Importunate and vain;

"And while his passion touch'd my heart,

"I triumph'd in his pain:

"Till quite dejected with my scorn,

"He left me to my pride;

"And sought a solitude forlorn,

"In secret, where he dy❜d.

"But mine the sorrow, mine the fault,
" And well my life shall pay;
"I'll seek the solitude he sought,
"And stretch me where he lay.

"And there forlorn, despairing, hid,
"I'll lay me down and die ;
""Twas so for me that Edwin did,

"And so for him will I."