XXXIV. "Till quite dejected with my scorn, "He left me to my pride; "And sought a solitude forlorn, "In secret where he died. XXXV. "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. XXXVI. "And there forlorn despairing hid, "And so for him will I." XXXVII. "Forbid it Heaven!" the Hermit cry'd, And clasp'd her to his breast: The wond'ring fair-one turn'd to chide,'Twas Edwin's self that press'd. XXXVIII. "Turn, Angelina, ever dear, 66 My charmer, turn to see "Thy own, thy long-lost Edwin here, "Restor❜d to love and thee. XXXIX. "Thus let me hold thee to my heart, "And ev'ry care resign: "And shall we never, never part, "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." AN ELEGY ON THE DEATH OF A MAD DOG *. GOOD people all, of ev'ry sort, Give ear unto my song; And if you find it wondrous short, It cannot hold you long. In Islington there was a man, Of whom the world might say, A kind and gentle heart he had, And in that town a dog was found, Both mungrel, puppy, whelp, and hound, "The Vicar of * This, and the following poem, appeared in Wakefield," which was published in the year 1765. This dog and man at first were friends; The dog, to gain some private ends, Around from all the neighb'ring streets The wound it seem'd both sore and sad To every Christian eye; And while they swore the dog was mad, They swore the man would die. But soon a wonder came to light, |