WRITTEN
IN
THE
HERMITAGE
AT
BRAID
Once
,
weary
of
the
busy
town
,
And
with
poetic
ardour
fir'd
,
I
left
it
with
a
scornful
frown
,
To
yon
sweet
hermitage
retir'd
.
I
set
me
on
a
mossy
stone
Beside
the
softly
filling
stream
;
So
charm'd
to
find
myself
alone
,
It
only
seem'd
a
pleasant
dream
.
When
,
lo
!
from
yon
surrounding
shades
,
Through
which
the
waters
glide
along
,
Step'd
forward
two
as
lovely
maids
As
e'er
were
fam'd
in
poet's
song
.
The
one
magestic
,
graceful
,
gay
,
Commanded
more
than
mortal
air
;
Her
meaning
eyes
were
bright
as
day
;
In
glossy
ringlets
wav'd
her
hair
.
Her
dress
,
the
purest
simple
white
,
No
gaudy
ornament
did
show
;
She
seem'd
array'd
in
robes
of
light
,
More
spotless
than
the
new
fall'n
snow
.
The
other
like
her
sister
seem'd
,
But
shone
with
an
inferior
air
;
From
her
mild
eyes
no
raptures
stream'd
,
But
modest
pleasure
sparkled
there
.
A
serious
settled
look
of
peace
In
all
her
gentle
form
appear'd
;
And
something
which
could
never
cease
To
make
that
gentle
form
endear'd
.
On
me
she
turned
her
smiling
eyes
,
Which
sparkl'd
then
with
love
and
joy
:
Be
what
I
am
,
she
sweetly
cries
,
And
nothing
shall
your
bliss
destroy
.
The
other
sternly
thus
reply'd
:
'Twould
be
a
crime
to
copy
thee
,
Unless
he
leave
a
world
of
pride
,
Or
wander
through
that
world
with
me
.
My
name
is
Virtue
!
fear
not
,
then
,
In
my
rough
paths
on
earth
to
stray
;
I'll
guide
you
from
the
wiles
of
men
;
I'll
lead
you
to
the
realms
of
day
.
And
this
fair
virgin
is
Content
,
Which
you
,
I
hope
,
will
shortly
be
.
If
that's
your
wish
,
in
time
repent
,
Disdain
the
world
,
and
follow
me
.
I
rose
,
and
,
with
a
beating
heart
,
Clasp'd
blooming
Virtue
to
my
breast
:
By
heav'n
,
we
never
more
shall
part
!
I
sigh'd
,
I
wept
,
and
closer
prest
.
Your
path
may
lie
through
care
and
strife
;
E'en
through
these
paths
I'll
follow
you
,
Till
,
at
the
farthest
verge
of
life
,
I
bid
this
vale
of
tears
adieu
.