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What happy hours of home-felt bliss
Did love on both beftow!
Where fortune proves a foe.
His filter, who, like Envy form’d,
Like her in mischief joy'd,
Each darker art employ'd.
The father too, a sordid man,
Who love nor pity knew, Was all-unfeeling as the clod,
From whence his riches grew.).
Long had he seen their secret fame,
And seen it long unmov'd: Then with a father's frown at last
Had sternly disapprov'd.
Deny'd her fight, he oft behind
The spreading hawthorn crept, To snatch a glance, to mark the spot
Where Enma walk'd and wept.
Oft too on Stanemore's wintry wafte,
Beneath the moonlight-shade, In fighs to pour his foften'a foul,
The midnight-mourner stray'd.
His check, where health with beauty glow'd,
A deadly pale o'ercast :
Before the northern blaft.
The parents now, with late remorse,
Hung o'er his dying bed ;
And fruitless forrow shed.
'Tis paft ! he cry'd--but if your fouls
Sweet mercy yet can move,
She came ; his cold hand softly touch'd,
And bath'd with many a tear : Faft-falling o'er the primrose pale,
So morning-dews appear.
But oh! his fifter's jealous care
A cruel fifter she !
My Edwin live for me.”
Now homeward as the hopeless wept
Amid the falling gloom of night,
Her startling fancy found In
every bush his hovering shade, His groan in every found.
Alone, appal'd, thus had the past
The visionary vale-
Sad-founding in the gale!
Just then she reach'd, with trembling step,
Her aged mother's door
That angel-face no more !
I feel, I feel this breaking heart
Beat high against my fide
She shivering figh'd, and died.
படைக்க "தாலை" --
" To where
TURN, gentle hermit of the dale,
“ And guide my lonely way,
yon taper cheers the vale, “ With hospitable ray.
For here forlorn and loft I tread, " With fainting steps and Now ; " Where wilds immeasurably spread, " Seem lengthening as I go.”
"Forbear my son,” the hermit cries,
" To tempt the dang'rous gloom ; “For yonder faithless phantom flies “ To lure thee to thy doom.
66 Here to the houseless child of want,
“ My door is open “And tho'my portion is but fcant,
“ I give it with good will.
“ Then turn to-night, and freely share
" Whate'er my cell bestows; “ My rushy couch and frugal fare,
“ My blessing and repose.
“ No flocks that range the valley free,
“ To slaughter I condemn : " Taught by that power that pities me,
“ I learn to pity them :
“ But from the mountain's grassy fidc
“ A guiltleis feast I bring ; • A scrip with herbs and fruits supply'd,
o And water from the spring.
6. Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego;
6. For earth-born cares are wrong: “ Man wants but little here below,
6. Nor wants that little long."
Soft as the dew from heav'n descends,
His gentle accents fell :
And follows to the cell.
Far in a wilderness obscure
The lonely manfion lay ;
And Itranger's led altray.
No stores beneath its humble thatch
Requir'd a maiter's care ;
Receiv'd the harmless pair.