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Thus she dresses



gay, To disperse our cares away.

Ever charming, ever new,
When will the landscape tire the view?
The fountain's fall, the river's flow,
The woody vallies, warm and low;
The windy summit, wild and high,
Roughly rushing on the sky!
The pleasant seat, the ruin'd tow'r,
The naked rock, the shady bow'r:
The town and village, dome and farm,
Each give to each a double charm,
As pearls upon an Æthiop's arm.


See on the mountain's southern side,
Where the prospect opens wide,
Where the ev'ning gilds the tide;
How close and small the hedges lie!
What streaks of meadows cross the eye!
A step, methinks, may pass the stream,
So little distant dangers seem;
So we mistake the future's facc,
Ey'd through Hope's deluding glass;
As yon summits soft and fair,
Clad in colours of the air,

Which to those who journey near,
Barren, brown, and rough appear:
Grass and flowers Quiet treads,
On the meads and mountain-heads,
Still we tread the same coarse way,
The present's still a cloudy day.


O may I with myself agree, ". And never covet what I see! Content me with an humble shade, My passion tam’d, my wishes laid; For while our wishes wildly roll, We banish Quiet from the soul: Tis thus the busy beat the air ; And misers gather wealth and care.

Now, ev’n now, my joys run high, As on the mountain-turf I lie; While the wanton zephyr sings, And in the vale perfumes his wings; While the waters murmur deep; While the shepherd charms his sheep: While the birds unbounded fly, And with music fill the sky, Now, ev'n now, my joys run high.

Be full, ye courts, be great who will: Search for

peace with all


skill :

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Open wide the lofty door,
Seek her on the marble floor,
In vain you search, she is not there;
In vain ye search the domes of care !
Along with Peace she's close ally'd,
Ever by each other's side,
And often, by the murm'ring rill,
Hears the thrush, while all is still,
Within the groves of Grongar Hill.



TURN, gentle hermit of the dale,

And guide my lonely way, " To where yön taper cheers the vale

« With hospitable ray.

“ For here forlorn and lost I tread,

“ With fainting steps and slow; " Where wilds immeasurably spread,

“ Seem length’ning 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.

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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;

“ 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

The lonely mansion lay;
A refuge to the neighb’ring poor,

And strangers led astray.
No stores beneath its humble thatch

Requir'd a master's care,
The wicket opening with a latch,

Receiv'd the harmless pair.

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And now when busy crowds retire

To take their ey'ning rest,
The hermit trimm'd his little fire,

And cheer'd his pensive guest:

And spread his vegetable store,

And gayly prest and smild; And skills in legendary lore,

The ling'ring hours beguild.

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.

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