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Thine arm unseen convey'd me safe,

And led me up to man;
Through hidden dangers, toils, and death, 25

It gently clear'd my way,
And through the pleasing snares of vice,

More to be fear'd than they.
When worn with sickness, oft hast thou
With health renew'd my face ;

30 And when in sins and sorrows sunk,

Revived my soul with grace.
Thy bounteous hand with worldly bliss

Has made my cup run o'er,
And in a kind and faithful friend

35 Has doubled all


Ten thousand thousand precious gifts

My daily thanks employ,
Nor is the least a cheerful heart,

That tastes those gifts with joy. 40 Through every period of my life

Thy goodness I 'll pursue,
And after death in distant worlds,

The glorious theme renew.
When nature fails, and day and night 45

Divide thy works no more, My ever-grateful heart, O Lord,

Thy mercy shall adore. Through all eternity, to Thee A joyful song I 'll raise,

50 But oh! Eternity's too short To utter all thy praise.





AGAIN the balmy Zephyr blows,

Fresh verdure decks the grove; Each bird with vernal rapture glows,

And tunes his notes to love. Ye gentle warblers, hither fly,

5 And shun the noontide heat; My shrubs a cooling shade supply,

My groves a safe retreat.
Here freely hop from spray to spray,

Or weave the mossy nest;
Here rove and sing the livelong day,

At night here sweetly rest.
Amidst this cool translucent rill,

That trickles down the glade,
Here bathe your plumes, here drink your fill, 15

And revel in the shade.
No school-boy rude, to mischief prone,

E’er shows his ruddy face,
Or twangs his bow, or hurls a stone,
In this sequester'd place.

20 Hither the vocal Thrush repairs,

Secure the Linnet sings,
The Goldfinch dreads no slimy snares

To clog her painted wings.
Sad Philomel, ah, quit thy haunt

25 Yon distant woods among,

And round my friendly grotto chant

Thy sweetly-plaintive song.
Let not the harmless Redbreast fear,
Domestic bird, to come,

30 And seek a sure asylum here

With one that loves his home. My trees for you, ye artless tribe,

Shall store of fruit preserve : 0, let me thus your friendship bribe; 35

Come, feed without reserve. For you

these cherries I protect,
To you these plums belong :
Sweet is the fruit that you have peck’d,

But sweeter far your song.
Let then this league betwixt us made

Our mutual interest guard :
Mine be the gift of fruit and shade,
songs be my reward.


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“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.
“Here to the houseless child of want

My door is open still ;
And, though my portion is but scant,

I give it with good will.
“Then turn to-night, and freely share


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 side

A guiltless feast I bring ;
A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied,

And water from the spring.
“Then, Pilgrim, turn, thy cares forgo;

All earth-born cares are wrong ;
Man wants but little here below,

Nor wants that little long."
Soft as the dew from heaven descends,

His gentle accents fell;
The modest stranger lowly bends,

And follows to the cell.




Far in a wilderness obscure

The lonely mansion lay;




A refuge to the neighbouring poor

And strangers led astray.
No stores beneath its humble thatch

Required a master's care ;
The wicket, opening with a latch,

Received the harmless pair.
And now, when busy crowds retire

To take their evening rest,
The Hermit trimm'd his little fire,

And cheer'd his pensive guest
And spread his vegetable store,

And gaily press'd, and smiled, And, skill'd in legendary lore,

The lingering hours beguiled.
Around in sympathetic mirth

Its tricks the kitten tries;
The cricket chirrups in the hearth,

The crackling faggot flies.
But nothing could a charm impart

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 ?
“From better habitations spurn'd,

Reluctant dost thou rove;
Or grieve for friendship unreturn'd,

Or unregarded love ?




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