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Yet stay fair lady; rest awhile
Beneath this cloyster wall: See through the hawthorn blows the cold wind,
And drizzly rain doth fall.
O stay me not, thou holy friar;
O ftay me not I pray ;
Yet ftay, fair lady, turn again,
And dry those pearly tears ; For fee beneath this
gown Thy own true-love appears.
Here forc'd by grief, and hopeless love
These holy weeds I fought: And here amid these lonely walls
To end my days I thought.
But haply for my year of grace
Is not yet pass'd away,
No longer would I stay.
Now farewel grief, and welcome joy
Once more unto my heart;
We never more will part.
URN, gentle hermit of the dale,
And guide my lonely way,
cheers the vale,
For here forlorn and loft I tread,
With fainting steps and flow;
Seem lengthening as I go.
Forbear, my son, the hermit cries,
To tempt the dangerous gloom;
To lure thee to thy doom,
Here to the houseless child of want,
My door is open ftill;
I give it with good will.
Then turn to-night, and freely share
My blessing and repose.
No flocks that range the valley free,
To slaughter I condemn :
I learn to pity them.
But from the mountain's graffy fide,
A guiltless feast I bring;
And water from the spring.
Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego;
For earth-born cares are wrong: Man wants but little here below,
Nor wants that little long.
Soft as the dew from heav'n descends,
His gentle accents fell:
And follows to the cell.
Far in a wilderness obscure
The lonely manfion lay;
And stranger led aftray.
No stores beneath its humble thatch
Requir'd a master's care;
Receiv'd the harmless pair.
And now when busy crowds retire
To revels or to rest,
And cheer'd his penfive guest :
Around in sympathetic mirth
Its tricks the kitten tries ;
The crackling faggot Aies.
But nothing could a charm impart
To footh the stranger's woe; For grief was heavy at his heart,
And tears began to flow.
His rising cares the hermit 'spy'd,
With answering cares.opprest :
The sorrows of thy breast ?
From better habitations spurn'd,
Reluctant dost thou rove;
Or unregarded love ?
Alas! the joys that fortune brings,
Are trilling and decay;
More trifling ftill than they.