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AR in the windings of a vale,

Fast by a sheltering wood, The safe retreat of health and

peace, An humble cottage stood.

There beauteous EMMA flourish'd fair

Beneath a mother's eye,
Whose only wish on earth was now

To see her blest, and die.

The softest blush that nature spreads

Gave colour to her cheek ;
Such orient colour smiles, thro' heav'n

When May's sweet mornings break,

Nor let the pride of great ones fcorn

This charmer of the plains;
That fun which bids their diamond blaze,
To deck our lily deigns,

F

Long

Long had she fir'd each youth with love,

Each maiden with despair ; And tho' by all a wonder own’d,

Yet knew not she was fair.

Till EDWIN came, the pride of fwains,

A foul that knew no art,
And from whose eyes serenely mild,

Shone forth the feeling heart.

A mutual flame was quickly caught,

Was quickly too reveal'd;
For neither bosom lodg'd a wish,

Which virtue keeps conceal'd.

What happy hours of heartfelt bliss,

Did love on both bestow !
But bliss too mighty long to laft,

Where fortune proves a foe.

His fifter, who like envy form’d,

Like her in mischief joy'd,
To work them harm, with wicked kill

Each darker art employ’d.

The

The father too, a sordid man,

Who love nor pity knew, Was all unfeeling as the rock From whence his riches

grew.

Long had he seen their mutual flame,

And seen it long unmoy'd; Then with a father's frown at last,

He sternly disapprov'd.

In Edwin's gentle heart a war

Of differing paflions ftrove; His heart which durft not disobey,

Yet could not cease to love.

Deny'd her sight, he oft behind

The spreading hawthorn crept, To snatch a glance, to mark the spot

Where Emma walk'd and wept.

Oft too in Stanemore's wintry waste,

Beneath the moonlight shade, In fighs to pour his foften'd soul

The midnight mourner stray'd.

His cheeks, where love with beauty glow'd,

A deadly pale o’ercast;
So fades the fresh rose in its prime,

Before the northern blast.

The parents now, with late remorse,

Hung o'er his dying bed,
And w ary'd heav'n with fruitless pray'rs,

And fruitless sorrows shed.

"Tis past, he cry'd, but, if your souls

Sweet mercy yet can move,
Let these dim eyes once more behold

What they must ever love.

She came; his cold hand softly touch'd,

And bath'd with many a tear ; Fast falling o'er the primrose pale

So morning dews appear.

But oh! his fifer's jealous care

(A cruel fifter she !) Forbad what Emma came to say

My EDWIN, live for me.

Now

Now homeward as she hopeless went,

The church-yard path along, The blaft blew cold, the dark owl scream'd,

Her lover's fun’ral song,

Amid the falling gloom of night,

Her startling fancy found
In every bush his hovering fhade,

His groan in every found.

Alone, appallid, thus had she pass'd

The visionary vale,
When lo! the death-bell smote her car,

Sad sounding in the gale.

Just then she reach'd, with trembling steps,

Her aged mother's door ;
He's gone, she cry'd, and I shall fee

That angel face no more.

I feel, I feel this breaking heart

Beat high against my fide :
From her white arm down sunk her head,

She shiver’d, sigh’d, and died.

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