'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

A guiltless feast I bring;

grassy side

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.'

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 trimmed his little fire,
And cheered his pensive guest:

And spread his vegetable store,
And gaily prest and smiled;
And, skilled 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 a 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 spurned,
Reluctant dost thou rove?

Or grieve for friendship unreturned,
Or unregarded love?

'Alas! the joys that fortune brings
Are trifling, and decay;

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,
And leaves the wretch to weep?

'And love is still an emptier sound,
The modern fair one's jest:
On earth unseen, or only found
To warm the turtle's nest,

"For shame, fond youth, thy sorrows hush,

And spurn the sex,' he said:
But while he spoke, a rising blush
His lovelorn guest betrayed.

Surprised, he sees new beauties rise,
Swift mantling to the view;
Like colours o'er the morning skies,
As bright, as transient too.

The bashful look, the rising breast,
Alternate spread alarms:
The lovely stranger stands confest
A maid in all her charms.

'And, ah! forgive a stranger rude,
A wretch forlorn,' she cried;
"Whose feet unhallowed thus intrude
Where heaven and you reside.

But let a maid thy pity share,
Whom love has taught to stray;
Who seeks for rest, but finds despair
Companion of her way.

My father lived beside the Tyne,
A wealthy lord was he;

And all his wealth was marked as mine,
He had but only me.

'To win me from his tender arms

Unnumbered suitors came;

Who praised me for imputed charms,
And felt, or feigned a flame.

'Each hour a mercenary crowd
With richest proffers strove:
Among the rest young Edwin bowed,
But never talked of love.

In humble, simplest habit clad,
No wealth or power had he;
Wisdom and worth were all he had,
But these were all to me.

'And when beside me in the dale
He carolled lays of love;
His breath lent fragrance to the gale,
And music to the grove.

'The blossom opening to the day,
The dews of heaven refined,
Could nought of purity display,
To emulate his mind.

'The dew, the blossoms of the tree,
With charms inconstant shine;
Their charms were his, but woe to me,
Their constancy was mine.

"For still I tried each fickle art,
Importunate and vain;

And while his passion touched my heart, I triumphed in his pain.

'Till quite dejected with my scorn, He left me to my pride;

And sought a solitude forlorn

In secret where he died.

'But mine the sorrow, mine the fault,
And well my life shall pay;

I'll seek the solitude he sought,
And stretch me where he lay.

<

And there forlorn, despairing hid,
I'll lay me down and die ;
'Twas so for me that Edwin did,
And so for him will I,"

N

'Forbid it, heaven!', the Hermit cried,
And clasped her to his breast:
The wondering fair one turned to chide,
"Twas Edwin's self that prest.

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.'

66

THE FATE OF MACGREGOR,

MACGREGOR, Macgregor, remember our foemen; "The moon rises broad from the brow of Ben-Lomond ; "The clans are impatient and chide thy delay; "Arise! let us bound to Glen-Lyon away."

Stern scowled the Macgregor, then silent and sullen, He turned his red eye to the braes of Strathfillan ; "Go, Malcolm, to sleep, let the clans be dismissed; "The Campbells this night for Macgregor must rest."—

"Macgregor, Macgregor, our scouts have been flying, "Three days, round the hills of M'Nab and Glen-Lyon; "Of riding and running such tidings they bear,

We must meet them at home, else they'll quickly be here."

"The Campbell may come, as his promises bind him, "And haughty M'Nab, with his giants behind him;