Edwin and Angelina.
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"TURN, gentle hermit, of the dale,
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guide my lonely way,
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"To where yon taper chears the vale,
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hospitable ray.
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"For here, forlorn, and lost, I tread,
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fainting steps and slow,
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"Where wilds immeasurably spread,
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lengthening as I go.
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"Forbear, my son," the hermit cries,
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tempt the dangerous gloom,
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"For yonder faithless phantom flies,
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lure thee to thy doom.
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"Here to the houseless child of want,
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door is open still,
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"And tho' my portion is but scant,
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give it with good will.
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"Then turn to-night and freely share,
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my cell bestows,
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"My rushy couch and frugal fare,
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blessing and repose,
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"No flocks that range the valley free,
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slaughter I condemn,
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"Taught by that power that pities me,
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learn to pity them.
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"But from the mountain's grassy side,
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guiltless feast I bring,
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"A scrip with herbs and fruits supply'd,
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water from the spring.
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"Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego,
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earth born cares are wrong,
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wants but little here below,
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wants that little long.
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Soft as the dew from heaven descends,
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His gentle accents fell,
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The modest stranger lowly bends,
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And follows to the cell.
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Far in a wilderness obscure,
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The lonely mansion lay,
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A refuge to the neighb'ring poor,
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Or strangers led astray.
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No stores beneath its humble thatch,
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Requir'd a master's care.
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The wicket opening with a latch,
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Receiv'd the harmless pair.
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And now, when busy crouds retire,
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To take their evening rest,
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The hermit trimm'd his little fire,
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And chear'd his pensive guest.
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And spread his vegetable store,
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And gaily prest and smil'd,
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And skill'd in legendary love,
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The lingering hours beguil'd.
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Around in sympathetic mirth,
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It's tricks the kitten cries,
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The cricket chirrups in the hearth,
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The crackling faggot flies.
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But nothing could a charm impart,
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To soothe the stranger's woe,
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For grief was heavy at his heart,
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And tears began to flow.
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His rising cares the hermit spy'd,
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With answering care opprest,
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"And whence, unhappy youth," he cry'd
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sorrows of thy breast?
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"From bitter habitations spurn'd,
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dost thou prove,
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"Or grieve for friendship unreturn'd.
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unregarded love.
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"Alas! the joys that fortune brings,
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trifling and decay,
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"And those who prize the paltry things,
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trifling still than they.
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"And what is friendship but a name,
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charm that lulls to sleep,
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"A shade that follows wealth or fame,
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leaves the wretch to weep.
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"And love is still an emptier sound,
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modern fair one's jest,
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"On earth unseen, or only found,
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warm the turtle's nest.
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"For shame, fond youth, thy sorrows hush,
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spurn the sex," he said,
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But while he spoke, a rising blush
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His love lorn guest betray'd,
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Surpris'd he sees new beauties rise,
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Swift mantling to the view,
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Like colours o'er the morning skies,
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As bright as transient too.
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The bashful look, the rising breast,
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Alternate spread alarms,
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The lovely stranger stands confest,
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A maid in all her charms.
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And, "Ah! forgive a stranger rude,
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wretch forlorn," she cry'd,
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"Whose feet unhallow'd thus intrude,
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heaven and you reside,
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"But let a maid thy pity share,
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love has taught to stray,
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"Who seeks for rest, but finds despair,
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of her way,
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"My father liv'd beside the Thyne,
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wealthy lord was he,
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"And all his wealth was mark'd as mine,
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had but only me.
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"To win me from his tender arms,
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suitors came,
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"Who prais'd me for imputed charms,
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felt or feign'd a flame,
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"Each hour a mercenary crowd,
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richest proffers strove,
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"Among the rest young Edwin bow'd,
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never talk'd of love.
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"In humble simplest habit clad,
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wealth nor power had he,
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"Wisdom and worth were all he had,
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these were nought to me.
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"The blossom opening to the day,
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dews of heaven refin'd.
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"Could nought of purity display,
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emulate his mind,
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"The dew, the blossom on the tree,
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charms inconstant shine,
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"Their charms were his, but woe to me,
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constancy was mine.
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"For still I try'd each fickle art,
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and vain,
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"And while his passion touch'd my heart,
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triumph'd in his pain,
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"Till quite dejected with my scorn,
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left me to my pride,
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"And sought a solitude forlorn,
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secret where he dy'd.
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"But mine the sorrow---mine the fault,
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well my life shall pay,
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"I'll seek the solitude he sought,
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stretch me where he lay.
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"And there forlorn despairing hid,
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lay me down and die.
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so for me my Edwin did,
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so for him will I.---
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"Forbid it, heaven," the hermit cry'd,
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And clasp'd her to his breast,
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"The wond'ring fair one turn'd to chide,
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Edwin's self that prest.
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"Turn, Angelina, ever dear,
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charmer turn to see,
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"Thy own, thy long lost Edwin here,
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to love and thee.
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"Thus let me hold thee to my heart,
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every care resign,
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"And shall we never, never part,
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life, my all that's mine.
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"No never from this hour to part,
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live and love so true,
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"The sigh that rends thy constant heart,
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break thy Edwin's too.
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