Imatges de pàgina
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But thefe thou must renounce, if luft of wealth E'er win its way to thy corrupted heart; For, ah! it poifons like a fcorpion's dart; Prompting the ungenerous with, the felfish fcheme. The ftern refolve, unmov'd by pity's fmart, The troublous day, and long diftrefaful dream.Return, my roving Mufe, refume thy purpofed theme.

XI.

There liv'd in Gothic days, as legends tell,
A fhepherd-fwain, a man of low degree;
Whofe fires, perchance, in Faryland might dwell,
Sicilian groves, or vales of Arcady;

But he, I ween, was of the north countrie:*
A nation fam'd for fong, and beauty's charms;
Zealous, yet modeft; innocent though free;
Patient of toil; ferene amid alarms,
Inflexible in faith; invincible in arms.

XII.

The hepherd-fwain of whom I mention made,
On Scotia's mountains fed his little flock;
The fickle, feythe, or plough, he never fway'd;
An honeft heart was almoft all his flock;
His drink the living water from the rock;
The milky dams fupplied his board, and lent,
Their kindly fleece to bafle winter's fhock ;

And he, though oft with duft and sweet befprent, Did guide and guard their wanderings wherfoe'er they

went.

* There is hardly an ancient Ballad, or Romance, wherein a Miurel or Harper appears, but he is characterised, by way of eminence, to have been " of the North countrie." It is probable that under this appellation were formerly comprehended all the provinces to the North of the Trent.

See Percy's Effay on the English Minstrels.

XIII.

From labour health, from health contentment fprings. Contentment opes the fource of every joy. He envied not, he never thought of kings; Nor from these appetites fuftain'd annoy, Which chance may fruftrate, or indulgence cloy; Nor Fate his calm and humble hopes beguiled; He mourn'd no recreant friend, nor miftrefs coy, For on his vows the blameless Phoebe fmil'd, And her alone he loved, and loved her from a child.

XIV.

No jealoufy their dawn of love o'ercast,
Nor blafted were their wedded days with ftrife;
Each feafon look'd delightful as it paft,
To the fond husband, and the faithful wife.
Beyond the lowly vale of fhepherd life
They never roam'd; fecure beneath the ftorm
Which in Ambition's lofty land is rife,
Where peace and love are canker'd by the worm
Of pride, each bud of joy industrious deform.

XV.

The wight whofe tale thefe artlefs lines unfold,
Was all the offspring of this fimple pair.
His birth no oracle or feer foretold:
No prodigy appear'd in earth or air,

Nor aught that might a strange event déclare..
You guefs each circumftance of EDWIN's birth;
The parent's tranfport, and the parent's care;
The Goffip's prayer for wealth, and wit, and worth
And one long fummer-day of indolence and mirth.

XVI.

And yet poor Edwin was no vulgar boy;
Deep thought oft feem'd to fix his infant eye.
Dainties he heeded not, nor gaude, nor toy,
Save one short pipe of rudeft minstrelfy.
Silent when glad; affectionate, though fhy;
And now his look was most demurely fad,

And now he laugh'd aloud, yet none knew why. The neighbours star'd and figh'd, yet bleft the lad : Some deem'd him wond'rous wife, and fome believ'd him mad.

XVII.

But why fhould I his childish feats difplay?
Concourfe and noise, and toil he ever filed;
Nor cared to mingle in the clamorous fray
Of fquabbling imps, but to the forest sped,
Or, roam'd at large the lonely mountain's head;
Or, where the maze of fome bewilder'd ftream
To deep untrodden groves his footsteps led,
There would he wander wild, 'till Phoebus beam,
Shot from the western cliff, released the

XVIII.

weary team.

Th' exploit of itrength, dexterity, or speed,
To him nor vanity nor joy could bring.

His heart, from cruel fport entranged, would bleed
To work the woe of any living thing,

By trap, by net, by arrow, or by fling;
Thefe he detefted, those he scorn'd to wield :
He with'd to be the guardian,, not the king,
Tyrant far lefs, or traitor of the field.

And fure the fylvan reign unbloody joy might yield.

XIX.

Lo? where the ftripling, wrapt in wonder, roves
Beneath the precipice o'erhung with pine;
And fees, on high, amidst th' encircling groves
From cliff to cliff the foaming torrents shine:
While waters, woods, and winds in concert join,
And Echo fwells the chorus to the fkies.
Would Edwin this majestic fcene refign

For aught the huntfmien's puny craft supplies?
Ah! no: he better knows great Nature's charms to prize.
XX.

And oft he traced the uplands, to furvey,
When o'er the sky advanced the kindling dawn,

The crimson clond, blue main, and mountain grey,
And lake, dim-gleaming on the fmoky lawn;
Far to the weft, the long long, vale withdrawn,
Where twilight loves to linger for a while;
And now he faintly kens the bounding fawn,
And villager abroad at early toil.-—

(finile. But, lo! the fun appears! and heaven, earth, occan

XXI

And oft the craggy cliff he lov'd to climb, When all in mift the world below was lost. When dreadful pleature! there to ftand fublime, Like shipwreck'd mariner on defart coast, And view th enormous walte of vapour, toft In billows, lengthening to the horizon round, Now fcoop'd in guifs, with mountains now emboss'd! And hear the voice of mirth and fong rebound, Flocks, herds, and waterfalls, along the hoar profound!

XXII.

In truth he was a ftrange and wayward wight,
Fond of each gentle, and each dreadful scene.
In darknefs, and in form, he found-delight:
Nor lefs, than when an ocean-wave.ferene
The fouthern fun diffufed his dazzling fhene.
Even fad viciffitude amufed his foul;
And if a figh would fometimes intervene,
And down his cheek a tear of pity roll,
A sigh, a tear, so sweet, he wish'd not to controul.

Oye

XXIII.

wild groves, O where is now your bloom!” (The Mufe interprets thus his tender thought.) Your flowers, your verdure, and your balmy gloom, Of late fo grateful in the hour of drought! Why do the birds, that fong and rapture brought 'To all your bowers, their manfions now forfake? Ah! why has fickle chance this ruin wrought; For now the storm howls mournful through the brake, And the dead foliage flies in many a fhapeless flake.

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XXIV.

Where now the rill, melodious, pure, and cool,
And meads, with life, and mirth, and beauty crown'd!
Ah! fee th' unfightly flime, and fluggish pool,
Have all the folitary vale embrown'd;

• Fled each fair form, and mute each melting found, • The raven croaks forlorn on naked spray :

And, hark! the river, bursting every mound, Down the vale thunders; and with wafteful sway, Uproots the grove, and rolls the shatter'd rocks away.

XXV.

Yet fuch the deftiny of all on earth :
So flourishes and fades majestic man.

Fair is the bud his vernal morn brings forth,
And foflering gales a while the nurfling fan.
O fmile, ye heavens, ferene; ye mildews wan,
Ye blighting whirlwinds, fpare his balmy prime,
Nor leffen of his life the little fpan.

Born on the fwift, though filent, wings of Time, Old-age comes on a pace to ravage all the clime.

XXVI.

And be it fo. Let thofe deplore their doom,
Whofe hopes till grovels in this dark fojourn.
But lofty fouls who look beyond the tomb,
Can fmile at Fate, and wonder how they mourn.
Shall fpring to these fad fcenes no more return?
Is yonder wave the fun's eternal bed ?—
Soon fhall the orient with new luftre burn,
And spring shall foon her vital influence shed,
Again attune the grove, again adorn the mead.

XXVII.

Shall I be left abandon'd in the duft, When Fate, relenting, lets the flower revive? • Shall nature's voice, to man, alone unjust, • Bid him, though doom'd to perif, hope to live? Is it for this fair Virtue oft must strive

With difappointment, penury, and pain?—

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