Ah!, what avails the love of Rome and Greece, The lay heaven-prompted, and harmonious ftring, The duft of Ophir, or Tyrean fleece,

All that art, fortune, enterprize can bring, If envy, fcorn, remorfe, or pride the bofom wring!

XVII.

Let Vanity adorn the marble tomb

With trophies, rhymes, and fcutcheons of renown, In the deep dungeon of fome Gothic dome, Where night and defolation ever frown. • Mine be the breezy hill that skirts the down: Where a green graffy turff is all I crave, With here and there a violet beftrown,

Faft by a brook, or fountain's murmuring wave; And many an evening fun fhine fweetly on my grave.

XVIII.

And thither let the village fwain repair; And, light of heart, the village maiden gay, To deck with flowers her half-difhevel'd hair, And celebrate the merry morn of May. There let the fhepherd's pipe the live long day Fill all the grove with loves bewitching wo; And when mild evening comes with mantle grey, Let not the blooming band make hafte to go; No ghost nor fpell my long and laft abode fhall know.

XIX.

For though I fly to efcape from Fortune's rage,
And bear the fcars of envy, fpite, and scorn,
Yet with mankind no horrid war I wage,
Yet with no impious fpleen my breaft is torn :
For virtue loft, and ruin'd man I mourn.

O Man, creation's pride, heaven's darling child,

• Whom nature's beft divineft gifts adorn,

Why from thy home are truth and joy exiled,

And all thy favourite haunts with blood and tears • defiled!

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XX.

Along one glittering fky what glory ftreams!
What Majetty attends night's lovely queen!
Fair laugh our vallies in the vernal beams;
And mountains rise, and oceans roll between,
And ali confpire to beautify the scene.

But, in the mental world, what chaos drear! 'What forms of mournful, loathsome, furious mein ! O when hall that eternal morn appear,

Thefedreadful forms to chase, this chaos dark to clear !

XXI.

O Thou, at whofe creative fmile, yon heaven, In all the pomp of beauty, life, and light, Rofe from th' abyfs; when dark Confution, driven • Down down the bottomlefs profound of night, Fied, where he ever flies thy piercing fight! O glance on thefe fad thades one pitying ray, To blat the fury of oppreffive might,

Melt the hard heart to love and mercy's fway,

And chear the wandering foul, aud light him on the

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• way.'

XXII.

Silence enfued: and Edwin raised his eyes
In tears, for grief lay heavy at his heart.
And is it thus in courtly life' (he cries)
That man to man acts a betrayer's part?
And dares he thus the gifts of heaven pervert,
Each focial inftinct, and fublime defire!-
Hail Poverty! if honour, wealth, and art,
If what the great pursue, and learn'd admire,
Thus diffipate and quench the foul's ethereal fire!'

XXIII.

He faid, and turu'd away; nor did the Sage
O'erhear, in filent orisons employ'd.
The Youth, his rifing forrow to affuage,
Home as he hied, the evening fcene enjoy'd:
For now no cloud obfcures the ftarry void?
The yellow moonlight fleeps on all the hills;
Ꭰ

Of

Nor is the mind with ftartling founds annoy'd,
A foothing murmur the lone region fills,

groves, and dying gales, and melancholy rills.

XXIV.

But he from day to day more anxious grew.
The voice ftill feem'd to vibrate on his ear.
Nor durft he hope the Hermit's tale untrue;
For man he feem'd to love, and heaven to fear;
And none speaks false, where there is none to hear.
Yet, can man's gentle heart become fo fell!

No more in vain conjecture let me wear
My hours

away, but feek the Hermit's cell; 'Tis he my doubt can clear, perhaps my care difpel."

XXV.

At early dawn the Youth his journey took,
And many a mountain pafs'd, and valley wide,
Then reach'd the wild; where, in a flowery nook,
And feated on a moffy ftone, he fpied

An antient man: his harp lay him befide.
A ftag fprang from the the pafture at his call,
And, kneeling, lick'd the wither'd hand, that tied
A wreathe of woodbine round his antlers tall,
And hung his lofty neck with many a floweret fmall.

XXVI.

And now the hoary fage arofe, and faw
The wanderer approaching: innocence
Smiled on his glowing cheek, but modeft awe
Deprefs'd his eye, that fear'd to give offence.

Who art thou, courteous ftranger? and from whence? Why roam thy fteps to this abandon'd dale?' A fhepherd-boy (the youth replied) far hence My habitation; hear my artlefs tale; Nor levity or falfhood fhall thine ear affail.

XXVII.

Late as I roam'd, intent on Nature's charms, • I reach'd at eve this wilderness profound;

And, leaning where yon oak expands her arms, Heard thefe rude cliffs thine awful voice rebound, (For in thy fpeech I recognise the found.) 'You mourn'd for ruin'd man, and virtue loft, And feem'd to feel of keen remorfe the wound, Pondering on former days, by guilt engrofs'd, Or in the giddy storm of diffipation tofs'd.

XXVIII.

'But fay, in courtly life can craft be learn'd, 'Where knowledge opens, and exalts the foul; 'Where fortune lavishes her gifts unearn'd, 'Can felfishness the liberal art control? Is glory there atchiev'd by arts, as foul As thofe which felons, fiends, and furies plan? 'Spiders enfnare, fnakes poifon, tygers prowl; Love is the godlike attribute of man. 'O teach a fimple youth this mystery tɔ scan.

XXIX.

Or elfe the lamentable ftrain difclaim, 'And give me back the calm, contented mind; Which, late, exulting, view'd in Nature's frame, Goodnefs untainted, wifdom unconfined, 'Grace, grandeur, and utility combine. 'Reftore thofe tranquil days, that faw me still 'Well-pleafed with all, but moft with humankind; 'When Fancy roam'd through Nature's works at will, 'Uncheck'd by cold distrust, and uninform'd of ill.'

XXX.

'Would thou (the Sage replied) in peace return
To the gay dreams of fond romantic youth,
Leave me to hide, in this remote fojourn,
From every gentle ear the dreadful truth :
For if my defultory ftrain with ruth

And indignation make thine eyes o'erflow,
Alas! what comfort could thy anguish footh,
'Shouldft thou th' extent of human folly know.
Be ignorance thy choice, where knowledge leads to wo.

XXXI.

But let untender thoughts afar be driven
Nor venture to arraign the dread decree :
For know, to man, a candidate for heaven,
The voice of The Eternal faid, Be free:

And this divine prerogative to thee

Does virtue, happinefs, and heaven convey;
For virtue is the child of liberty,

And happinefs of virtue; nor can they
Be free to keep the path who are not free to fray.

XXXII.

Yet leave me not. I would allay that grief,
Which elfe might thy young virtue overpower;
And in thy converfe I thall find relief,

When the dark fhades of melancholy lower ;
For folitude has many a dreary hour,

Even when exempt from grief, remorse, and pain : • Come often then; for, haply, in

my bower, Amusement, knowledge, wildom thou may'ft gain: If I one foul improve, I have not lived in vain.'

XXXIII.

And now, at length, to Edwin's ardent gaze
The Mufe of hiftory unrolls her page.
But few alas! the scenes her art displays,
To charm his fancy, or his heart engage.

Her Chiefs their thirst of power in blood affwage,
And ftraight their flames with tenfold fierceness burn:
Here fmiling Virtue prompts the patriot's rage,
But lo, ere long, is left alone to mourn,

And languish in the duft, and clasp the abandon'd urn.

XXXIV.

Ah, what avails (he faid) to trace the fprings
That whirl of empire the ftupendous wheel!
Ah, what have I to do with conquering kings,
Hands drench'd in blood, and breafts begirt with
• fteel!