THE HERMIT. TURN, gentle hermit of the dale, And guide my lonely way, To where yon taper cheers the vale "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, "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, "But from the mountain's grassy side A guiltless feast I bring; A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied, And water from the spring. 66 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, And now when busy crowds retire And spread his vegetable store, 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, But nothing could a charm impart His rising cares the hermit spied, With answering care oppress'd: "And whence, unhappy youth," he cried, "The sorrows of thy breast? "From better habitations spurn'd, Or grieve for friendship unreturn'd, "Alas! the joys that fortune brings Are trifling, and decay; And those who prize the paltry things |