Where beasts with man divided empire claim, And all around distressful yells arise, The pensive exile, bending with his woe, Casts a last look where England's glories shine, Vain, very vain, my weary search to find With secret course, which no loud storms annoy, Luke's iron crown, and Damiens' bed of steel, THE HERMIT. A BALLAD. "TURN, gentle Hermit of the dale, To where yon taper cheers the vale "For here forlorn and lost I tread, With fainting steps and slow; Where wilds, immeasurably spread, Seem lengthening 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, E "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 supplied, 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 heaven descends, His gentle accents fell; The modest stranger lowly bends, And follows to the cell. Far in a wilderness obscure A refuge to the neighbouring poor, No stores beneath its humble thatch And now, when busy crowds retire The Hermit. And spread his vegetable store, The lingering hours beguiled. Around in sympathetic mirth But nothing could a charm impart His rising cares the Hermit spied, With answering care opprest: "And whence, unhappy youth," he cried, "The sorrows of thy breast? "From better habitations spurn'd, Or grieve for friendship unreturn'd, "Alas! the joys that fortune brings Are trifling, and decay And those who prize the trifling things, "And what is friendship but a name ; A shade that follows wealth or fame, E 2 57 "And love is still an emptier sound, "For shame, fond youth! thy sorrows hush, 66 Surprised he sees new beauties rise, The bashful look, the rising breast, The lovely stranger stands confest, And, ah! forgive a stranger rude, “But let a maid thy pity share, Whom love has taught to stray: My father lived beside the Tyne, A wealthy lord was he; And all his wealth was mark'd as mine; |