And spread his vegetable store,
And gaily press'd 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 spied,
With answering care opprest:
And, 'Whence, unhappy youth,' he cried, '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,
And 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.
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 cried;
'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.
'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 hour a mercenary 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 or 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 heav'n refin'd,
Could nought of purity display,
To emulate his mind.
'The dew, the blossoms of the tree, With charms inconstant shine; Their charms were his, but, woe to me,
Their constancy was mine.
For still I tried 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 died.
'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 cried,
And clasp'd her to his breast:
The wondering fair one turned to chide;
'T was Edwin's self that prest!
'Turn, Angelina, ever dear,
My charmer, turn to see
Thy own, thy long-lost Edwin here,
Restored to love and thee.
'Thus let me hold thee to my heart,
And every 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.'
THE DOUBLE TRANSFORMATION.
SECLUDED from domestic strife,
Jack Bookworm led a college life;
A fellowship at twenty-five
Made him the happiest man alive;
He drank his glass, and crack'd his joke,
And freshmen wonder'd as he spoke.
Such pleasures, unallay'd with care,
Could any accident impair?
Could Cupid's shaft at length transfix
Our swain arriv'd at thirty-six ?
O had the archer ne'er come down
To ravage in a country town,
Or Flavia been content to stop
At triumphs in a Fleet-street shop!
O had her eyes forgot to blaze,
Or Jack had wanted eyes to gaze!
-But let exclamation cease,
Her presence banish'd all his peace:
So, with decorum all things carried,
Miss frown'd, and blush'd, and then was
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