EDWIN

AND

ANGELINA,

OR THE FEMALE HERMIT.

BY OLIVER GOLDSMITH.

• TURN,

URN, gentle Hermit of the dale,
And guide my lonely way,

To where yon taper cheers the vale
With hofpitable ray.

For here forlorn and loft I tread,
With fainting fleps and flow;
• Where wilds immeafureably spread,
Seem length'ning as I go.

Forbear, my fon, the Hermit cries,
To tempt the dang’rous gloom;
For yonder phantom only flies
To lure thee to thy doom*.

Here to the houfelefs child of want

• My door is open

ftill;

And tho' my portion is but fcant,
I give it with good will.

• Then turn to-night and freely fhare

• Whate'er my cell bestows;

My ruthy couch and frugal fare,

My bleffing and repose.

• No

The will with a wifp: fee Johnfon's dictionary.

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 fide
A guiltless feaft I bring;

A fcrip with herbs and fruits fupply'd,
And water from the spring*.

Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego;
All earth-born cares are wrong:
• Man wants but little here below,
Nor wants that little long+.'

Soft as the dew from Heaven defcends,
His gentle accents fell:

The modect ftranger lowly bends,

And follows to the cell.

Far in a wilderness obfcure,
The lonely manfion lay;

A refuge to the neighb'ring poor,

And ftrangers led aftray.

C

*The mofs his bed, the cave his humble cell,

His food the fruits, his drink the chryftal well.

And

PARNELL'S HERMIT.

+NIGHT THOUGHTS.

No flores beneath its humble thatch
Requir'd a mafler's care;

The wicket op'ning with a latch
Receiv'd the harmless pair.

And now when bufy crowds retire
To take their evening reft,

The Hermit trimm'd his little fire,
And cheer'd his penfive gueft;

And fpread his vegetable flore,
And gaily prefs'd, and fmil'd;
And, fkill'd in legendary lore,
The ling'ring hours beguil'd.

Around in fympathetic mirth
It's tricks the kitten tries,
The cricket chirrups in the hearth,
The crackling faggot flies.

But nothing could a charm impart,
To foothe the flranger's woe:

For grief was heavy at his heart,
And tears began to flow*.

His rifing cares the Hermit fpy'd,
With anfwering care opprefs'd:

And whence, unhappy youth,' he cry'd.

The forrows of thy breast ?

From

The grief of the heart, will always difcover itfelf

more or less, in fpite of every attempt to conceal it.

From better habitations fpurn'd,

Reluctant doff 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 paultry things
More trifling ftill than they.

And what is Friendship but a name,
A charm that lulls to fleep;
A fhade that follows wealth or fame,
And leaves the wretch to weep?

And Love is fill an emptier found,
The modern fair-one's jeft;

• On earth unfeen, or only found
To warm the turtle's neft.

For fhame, fond youth! thy forrows hufh,
And fpurn the fex!' he said:
But while he spoke, a rifing blufh

His love-lorn guest betray'd.

Surpriz'd he fees new beauties rife,

Swift mantling to the view,

Like colours o'er the morning fkies,

As bright and tranfient too.

C 2

The

Wealth is a very uncertain acquifition, for a rich

man to day, may be a poor man to-morrow; this is a ufeful leffon for young spendthrifts and extravagant prodigals.

The bafhful look, the rifing breaft,
Alternate fpread alarms;

The lovely franger ftands confefs'd
A maid in all her charms.

And, ah! forgive a flranger rude,
A wretch forlorn,' fhe cry'd,
Whofe feet unhallow'd thus intrude

Where Heaven and refide!
you

But let a maid thy pity fhare,

Whom love has taught to flray;
Who feeks for reft, but finds defpais

Companion of her way.

My father liv'd be fide the Tyne,

A wealthy lord was he;

And all his wealth was mark'd as mine;

He had but only me.

To win me from his tender arms

• Unnumber'd fuitors came;

Who prais'd me for imputed charms,
And felt, or feign'd a flamet.

Each hour a mercenary crowd
With richest proffers ftrove:

Among the reft young Edwin bow'd,

But never talk'd of love.

In

+ It is too often found by woeful experience, that the hearts and tongues of female admirers are not in unifon.