cried I," that's a good girl, I find you are perfectly "qualified for making converts, and so go help your mother to make the gooseberry-pye.'

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CHAP. VIII.

An amour, which promises little good fortune, yet may be productive of much.

THE next morning we were again visited by Mr. Burchell, though I began, for certain reasons, to be displeased with the frequency of his return; but I could not refuse him my company and my fire-side. It is true his labour more than requited his entertainment; for he wrought among us with vigour, and either in the meadow or at the hay-rick put himself foremost. Besides, he had always something amusing

to

say that lessened our toil, and was at once so out of the way, and yet so sensible, that I loved, laughed at, and pitied him. My only dislike arose from an attachment he discovered to my daughter: he would in a jesting manner, call her his little mistress, and when he bought each of the girls a set of ribbands, hers was the finest. I knew not how, but he every day seemed to become more amiable, his wit to improve, and his simplicity to assume the superior airs of wisdom.

Our family dined in the field, and we sate, or rather reclined, round a temperate repast, our cloth spread upon the hay, while Mr. Burchell gave cheerfulness to the feast. To heighten our satisfaction two blackbirds

VOL. I.

D

blackbirds answered each otherfrom opposite hedges, the familiar red-breast came and pecked the crumbs from our hands, and every sound seemed but the echo of tranquility. "I never sit thus," says Sophia, "but I think of the two lovers so sweetly de"scribed by Mr. Gay, who were struck dead in each "other's arms. There is something so pathetic in "the description, that I have read it an hundred "times with new rapture.". "In my opinion," cried my son," the finest strokes in that description "are much below those in the Acis and Galatea of "Ovid. The Roman poet understands the use of "contrast better, and upon that figure artfully ma"naged all strength in the pathetic depends.

"It is remarkable,” cried Mr. Burchell, "that both "the poets you mention have equally contributed "to introduce a false taste into their respective coun“tries, by loading all their lines with epithet. Men of little genius found them most easily imitated in their defects, and English poetry, like that in the latter "empire of Rome, is nothing at present but a com"bination of luxuriant images, without plot or con"nexion; a string of epithets that improve the "sound, without carrying on the sense. But perhaps, madam, while I thus reprehend others, you'll think it just that I should give them an opportunity to retaliate, and indeed I have made this "remark only to have an opportunity of introducing "to the company a ballad, which, whatever be its "other defects, is I think at least free from those I "have mentioned."*

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*We have introduced this beautiful poem in this place, because it appears to be too intimately connected with the story, to be omitted with any propriety, though it is inserted in the next vo lume among the rest of the Doctor's poetical productions.

A BALLAD.

A BALLAD.

1.

TURN, gentle Hermit of the Dale,
"And guide my lonely way,

"To where yon taper cheers the vale
“With hospitable ray.

11.

"For here forlorn and lost I tread,
"With fainting steps and slow;
"Where wilds, immeasurably spread,
"Seem length'ning as I go."

III.

"Forbear, my son," the Hermit cries,
"To tempt the dangerous gloom;
"For yonder faithless phantom flies.
"To lure thee to thy doom.

IV.

"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.

V.

"Then turn to-night, and freely share
"Whate'er my cell bestows;

My rushy couch and frugal fare,
My blessing and repose.

VI.

"No flocks that range the valley free, "To slaughter I condemn ;

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Taught by that power that pities me, "I learn to pity them:

VII.

"But from the mountain's grassy side "A guiltless feast I bring;

"A scrip with herbs and fruits supply'd, "And water from the spring.

VIII.

"Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego; "All earth-born cares are wrong;

"Man wants but little here below, "Nor wants that little long."

IX.

Soft as the dew from Heav'n descends,
His gentle accents fell:

The modest stranger lowly bends,

And follows to the cell.

X.

Far in a wilderness obscure
The lonely mansion lay,
A refuge to the neighb'ring poor
And strangers led astray.

XI.

No stores beneath its humble thatch

Requir'd a master's care;

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

And

And now, when busy crowds retire
To take their ev'ning rest,
The Hermit trimm'd his little fire,
And cheer'd his pensive guest:

XIII.

And spread his vegetable store,
And gayly press'd, and smil'd;
And skill'd in legendary lore
The ling'ring hours beguil'd

XIV.

Around in sympathetic mirth
Its tricks the kitten tries,
The cricket chirrups in the hearth,
The crackling faggot flies.

XV.

But nothing could a charm impart
To soothe the stranger's woe;
For grief was heavy at his heart
And tears began to flow.

XVI.

His rising cares the Hermit spy'd,
With answ'ring care opprest:
“And whence, unhappy youth," he cry'd
"The sorrows of thy breast?

XVII.

"From better habitations spurn'd, "Reluctant dost thou rove?

Or grieve for friendship unreturn'd, "Or unregarded love?

"Alas!