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“ No flocks that range the valley free

To flaughter I condemn“ Taught by that Power that pities me,

“ I learn to pity them“ But from the mountain's graffy side

“ A guiltless feast I bring“ A scrip with herbs and fruit supply'd,

“ And water from the spring. “ Then, Pilgrim, turn-thy cares forego

6 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 grateful stranger lowly bends,

And follows to the cell.

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No stores beneath its humble thatch

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

Receiv'd the harmless pair.
And now, when busy crowds retire

To take their ev’ning rest,
The Hermit trimm'd his little fire,

And cheer'd his penfive guest;

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And spread his vegetable store,

And gaily prest and smild! And, skill'd in legendary lore,

The ling'ring hours beguild.
Around, in fympathetic 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.

a

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 habitation spurn'd,

66 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

6 A charm that lulls to sleep*6 A fhade that follows wealth or fame,

6. And leaves the wretch to weep?

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“ And love is still an emptier sound

66. The modern fair-one's jest; « On earth unseen, or only found

" To warm the turtle's nest.

« For shame, fond youth-thy forrows hush,

“ And spurn the sex,” he said; But while he spoke, a rising blush

His love-lorn guest betray'd.
Surpris’d he fees new beauties rise,

Swift mantling to the view
Like colours o'er the morning skies,

As bright, as transient too.
The bashful look, the riling 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. “ 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.

RETALIATION.

A POEM.

[Dr. Goldsmith, and the Gentlemen characterised in this

Poem, occasionally dined at the St. James's Coffeehouse-One day it was proposed to write Epitaphs on him. His country, dialect, and person, furnished subjects of witticism. He was called on for RetaLIATION, and at their next meeting produced this Poem. It was first printed in the year 1774, after the Author's death.]

Of old, when Scarron his companions invited,
Each guest brought his dish, and the feast was united ;
If our landlord(a) supplies us with beef, and with fish,
Let each guest bring himself, and he brings the best dish:
Our dean (6) shall be venison, just fresh from the plains;
Our Burke(c) fall be tongue, with the garnish of brains;
Our Will(d) shall be wild fowl, of excellent flavour,
And Dick(e) with his pepper shall heighten the favour;
OurCumberland's(f) sweet-bread its place shallobtain,
And Douglas (g) is pudding, substantial and plain;

(a) The master of the St. James's Coffeehouse.
(6) Dr. Bernard, dean of Derry, in Ireland.
(c) Mr. Edmund Burke.
(d) Mr.William Burke, late secretary to General Conway.
(e) Mr. Richard Burke, collector of Grenada.

1) Mr. Richard Cumberland, author of the West Indian, and other dramatic pieces.

(g) Dr. Douglas, canon of Windsor, an ingenious Scotch gentleman, who has no less distinguished himself as a citi

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“ But mine the forrow, mine the fault,

" And well my life shall pay ; " I'll seek the folitude he fought,

66 And stretch me where he lay ;

" And there forlorn, despairing hid,

“ I'll lay me down and die“ 'Twas fo for me that Edwin did,

16 And so for him will I.”

« Forbid it, heaven!" the Hermit cry'd,

And clasp'd her to his breast : The wondering fair-one turn'd to chide

'Twas Edwin's self that prest! “ Turn, Angelina, ever dear

6 My charmer, turn to see “ Thy own, thy long-loft Edwin here,

• Restor'd to love and thee!

66 Thus let me hold thee to my heart,

" And every care resign: 66 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."

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