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Remote from all congenial joy !
O take the wanderer home.
Thy shades, thy silence now be mine,
Thy charms my only theme; My haunt the hollow cliff, whose pine
Waves o'er the gloomy stream, Whence the scar'd owl on pinions grey
Breaks from the rustling boughs, And down the lone vale sails away
To more profound repose.
O while to thee the woodland pours
Its wildly warbling song,
The zephyr breathes along;
No vagrant foot be nigh,
Flash on the startled eye.
But if some pilgrim through the glade
Thy hallow'd bowers explore,
And listen to his lore;
That wean from earthly woe,
That chains this heart below.
For me, no more the path invites
Ambition loves to tread ; No more I climb those toilsome heights
By guileful Hope misled; Leaps my fond fluttering heart no more
To Mirth's enlivening strain; For present pleasure soon is o'er,
And all the past is vain.
BY THE REV. THOMAS PENROSE.
Mildly beam'd the queen of night,
Sailing thro' the grey serene :
But faintly shone the solitary scene,
High on a cliffy steep, o'erspread
With many an oak, whose ancient head
Did in its neighbour's top itself inwreath, And cast an umbered gloom and solemn awe beneath.
High on a cliffy steep a Hermit sat,
Weighing in his weaned mind
The various woes of human kind;
Silent was all around,
Save when the swelling breeze
Convey'd the half-expiring sound
No tinkling folds, no curfew's parting knell
Struck the sequester'd Anchoret's ear ;
Remote from men he scoop'd his narrow cell, For much he had endur'd, no more he look'd to fear.
But still, the world's dark tempests past,
Wliat tho' his skiff was drawn to shore,
Yet oft his voyage he'd ponder o'er;
Before his sage revolving eyes
Joy led the van, in rapture wild,
Thoughtless of the distant day;
Hied from the frantic pageant far away ;
In revelry untaught to stray.
Joy led the van-her painted vest,
Flowing to th' obsequious wind,
And eager tripp'd behind.
Gay she stepp'd, till busy Fear
6 How many an evil may befall !”
Aghast awhile she heard the ruthful song, Then faster seiz'd the robe, and hastier danc'd along.
Close Love follow'd in the train,
'Twixt Pride and lust of Grandeur led,
And seize the visionary prize :
Pale as the waning moon,
With tear-stain’d cheek and stupid gaze,
Grief crept along in sad amaze,