EDWIN AND ANGELINA.

A BALLAD.

 "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 immeasureably spread,
" Seem lengthening as I go. " 

 "Forbear, my son," the hermit cries,
 "To tempt the dangerous gloom;
" For yonder phantom only 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;
" For 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 grateful stranger lowly bends,
 And follows to the cell. 

Far shelter'd in a glade obscure
 The modest mansion lay;
 A refuge to the neighbouring poor,
 And strangers led astray. 

No stores beneath its humble thatch
 Requir'd a master's care;
 The door just opening with a latch,
 Receiv'd the harmless pair. 

And now when worldly crouds retire
 To revels or to rest,
 The hermit trimm'd his little fire,
 And cheer'd his pensive guest:

And spread his vegetable store,
 And gayly prest, and smil'd;
 And skill'd in legendary lore,
 The lingering hours beguil'd. 

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 soothe the stranger's woe;
 For grief was heavy at his heart,
 And tears began to flow. 

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 haughty 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
 The bashful guest betray'd. 

He sees unnumber'd beauties rise,
 Expanding to the view;
 Like clouds that deck the morning skies,
 As bright, as transient too. 

Her looks, her lips, her panting 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 morn the gay phantastic crowd
" With richest proffers strove:
 "Among the rest young Edwin bow'd,
" But never talk'd of love. 

 "In humble, simplest habit clad,
" No wealth nor pow'r had he;
 "A constant heart was all he had,
" But that was 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. " 

 "Thou shalt not thus," the hermit cry'd,
 And clasp'd her to his breast:
 The wond'ring fair one turn'd to chide;
 'Twas Edwin's self that prest. 

 "Turn, Angelina, ever dear,
" My charmer, turn to see,
 "Thy own, thy long-lost Edwin here,
" Restor'd to love and thee. 

 "Thus let me hold thee to my heart,
" And ev'ry care resign:
 "And shall we never, never part,
" O thou — my all that's mine. " 

 "No, never, from this hour to part,
" We'll live and love so true;
 "The sigh that rends thy constant heart,
" Shall break thy Edwin's too.