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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 modern 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. His love-lorn guest betray'd.

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Surpris'd, he sees new beauties rise
Swift mantling to the view,
Like colours o'er the morning skies;
As bright, as transient too.

The bashful look, the rising 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 Heaven 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.

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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,

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Unnumber'd suitors came;

"Who prais'd me for imputed charms, And felt or feign'd a flame.

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"Each hour a mercenary crowd "With richest proffers strove:

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Among the rest young Edwin bow'd,
"But never talk'd of love.

"In humble, simplest habit clad,

"Nor wealth nor power had he; "Wisdom and worth were all he had, "But these were all to me.

"The blossom opening to the day,
"The dews of heaven 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.”

"Forbid it, Heaven!" 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 press'd.

"Turn, Angelina, ever dear,

"

66 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,
"My life—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."

EUPOLIS HYMN TO THE CREATOR.

FROM THE GREEK.

WESTLEY.,

,

AUTHOR of Being, source of light,
With unfading beauties bright,
Fullness, goodness, rolling round
Thy own fair orb without a bound:
Whether thee thy suppliants call
Truth, or Good, or One, or All,
Ei, or Iao; thee we hail,
Essence that can never fail,

Grecian or Barbaric name,

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Thy stedfast being still the same.

Thee, when morning greets the skies
With rosy checks and humid 'eyes';
Thee, when sweet declining day
Sinks in purple waves away;
Thee will I sing, O parent Jove,

་་།;

And teach the world to praise and love.

Yonder azure vault on high,

Yonder blue, low, liquid sky,

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