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Page 49 - 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 side A guiltless feast I bring; A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied, 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.
Page 48 - TURN, gentle Hermit of the dale, And guide my lonely way To where yon taper cheers the vale With hospitable ray. " For here forlorn and lost I tread, With fainting steps and slow; Where wilds, immeasurably spread, Seem lengthening as I go." " Forbear, my son," the Hermit cries, " To tempt the dangerous gloom ; For yonder faithless phantom flies To lure thee to thy doom.
Page 50 - And those who prize the paltry things, More trifling still than they. " And what is friendship but a name, A charm that lulls to sleep : A shade that follows wealth or fame, But leaves the wretch to weep?
Page 50 - To soothe the stranger's woe; For grief was heavy at his heart, And tears began to flow. His rising cares the Hermit spied, With answering care opprest: And, "Whence, unhappy youth," he cried, "The sorrows of thy breast?
Page 48 - When lovely woman stoops to folly, And finds too late that men betray, What charm can soothe her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away ? The only art her guilt to cover, To hide her shame from every eye, ' To give repentance to her lover, And wring his bosom — is to die.
Page 53 - Twas Edwin's self that press'd. « Turn, Angelina, ever dear, My charmer, turn to see Thy own, thy long-lost Edwin here, ^ ^ Restored to love and thee. « Thus let me hold thee to my heart, And every care resign ; 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.
Page 26 - Our little habitation was situated at the foot of a sloping hill, sheltered with a beautiful underwood behind, and a prattling river before ; on one side a meadow, on the other a green.
Page 51 - But let a maid thy pity share, Whom love has taught to stray ; Who seeks for rest, but finds despair Companion of her way.
Page 111 - Islington there was a man, Of whom the world might say, That still a godly race he ran, Whene'er he went to pray. A kind and gentle heart he had, To comfort friends and foes ; The naked every day he clad, When he put on his clothes. And in that town a dog was found, As many dogs there be, Both mongrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, And curs of low degree.