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Yet ftay fair lady; rest awhile

Beneath this cloyfter wall:

See through the hawthorn blows the cold wind, And drizzly rain doth fall.

O ftay me not, thou holy friar;
O flay me not I pray ;

No drizzly rain that falls on me,
Can wash my fault away.

Yet ftay, fair lady, turn again,
And dry thofe pearly tears;
For fee beneath this gown of gray
Thy own true-love appears.

Here forc'd by grief, and hopeless love

Thefe 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,

Might I ftill hope to win thy love,

No longer would I stay.

Now

Now farewel grief, and welcome joy
Once more unto my heart;

For fince I have found thee, lovely youth,
We never more will part.

PERCY.

T

URN, gentle hermit of the dale,
And guide my lonely way,

To where yon taper cheers the vale,
With hofpitable ray.

For here forlorn and loft I tread,
With fainting steps and flow;
Where wilds, immeafurably spread,
Seem lengthening as I go.

Forbear, my son, the hermit cries,
To tempt the dangerous gloom;
For yonder phantom only flies

To lure thee to thy doom.

Here

Here to the houseless child of want,

My door is open ftill;

And tho' my portion is but fcant,
I give it with good will.

Then turn to-night, and freely share
Whate'er my cell beftows;
My rufhy couch, and frugal fare,
My bleffing and repofe.

No flocks that range the valley free,
To flaughter I condemn :
Taught by that power that pities me,
I learn to pity them.

But from the mountain's graffy fide,
A guiltless feaft I bring;

A fcrip with herbs and fruits fupply'd,
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

Soft as the dew from heav'n defcends,

His gentle accents fell:

The modeft ftranger lowly bends,

And follows to the cell.

Far in a wilderness obfcure
The lonely mansion lay;

A refuge to the neighbouring poor,
And stranger led astray.

No ftores beneath its humble thatch

Requir'd a master's care;
The wicket opening with a latch,
Receiv'd the harmless pair.

And now when bufy crowds retire
To revels or to rest,

The hermit trimm'd his little fire,
And cheer'd his penfive guest:

And spread his vegetable store,

And gaily preft, and smil'd;

And skill'd in legendary lore,
The lingering hours beguil❜d,

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Around in fympathetic mirth
Its tricks the kitten tries;
The cricket chirrups on the hearth;
The crackling faggot flies.

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

His rifing cares the hermit 'fpy'd,
With answering cares.oppreft:
And whence, unhappy youth, he cry'd,
The forrows of thy breast?

From better habitations fpurn'd,
Reluctant doft thou rove;

Or grieve for friendship unreturn'd,

Or unregarded love?

Alas! the joys that fortune brings,

Are trifling and decay;

And thofe that prize the paltry things,

More trifling ftill than they.

And

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