XIV. Around in sympathetic mirth Its tricks the kitten tries, XV. But nothing could a charm impart XVI. His rising cares the Hermit spy'd, XVII. "From better habitations spurn'd, "Reluctant dost thou rove? "Or grieve for friendship unreturn'd, "Or unregarded love? XVIII. "Alas! the joys that fortune brings, "Are trifling and decay; "And those who prize the paltry things, "More trifling still than they. "And XIX. "And what is friendship but a name, XX. "And love is still an emptier sound, XXI. "For shame, fond youth, thy sorrows hush, XXII. Surpriz'd he sees new beauties rise, XXIII. The bashful look, the rising breast, A maid in all her charms. « And, XXIV. "And, ah! forgive a stranger rude, "A wretch forlorn," she cry'd ; "Whose feet unhallow'd thus intrude "Where Heav'n and you reside. XXV. "But let a maid thy pity share, "Whom love has taught to stray : "Who seeks for rest, but finds despair "Companion of her way. XXVI. "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. XXVII. "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. XXVIII. "Each hour a mercenary crowd "With richest proffers strove; Amongst the rest young Edwin bow'd "But never talk'd of love. XXIX. "In humble simplest habit clad, "But these were all to me. "And when, beside me in the dale, "He carol'd lays of love, "His breath lent fragrance to the gale, The blossom opening to the day, "The dews of Heaven refin'd "Could nought of purity display "To emulate his mind. XXXII. "The dew, the blossom on the tree, "With charms inconstant shine; "Their charms were his, but woe to me, "Their constancy was mine. * This stanza, never before printed, was communicated by Richard Archdal, Esq. who received it from the Author himself. XXXIV. "Till quite dejected with my scorn, "He left me to my pride; "And sought a solitude forlorn, "In secret where he dy'd. XXXV. "But mine the sorrow, mine the fault, XXXVI. “And there forlorn despairing hid, XXXVII. "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 prest. "Thy own, thy long-lost Edwin here, "Restor❜d to love and thee. "Thus |