He tried each heart, reproved each dull delay,
Allured to brighter worlds, and led the
Beside the bed where parting life was laid,
And sorrow, guilt, and pain by turns dismayed,
The reverend champion stood. At his control
Despair and anguish fled the struggling soul;
Comfort came down, the trembling wretch to raise,
And his last faltering accents whispered praise.
At church, with meek and unaffected grace,
His looks adorned the venerable place;
Truth from his lips prevailed with double sway,
And fools, who came to scoff, remained to pray.
The service past, around the pious man,
With steady zeal, each honest rustic ran ;
E'en children followed, with endearing wile,
And plucked his gown, to share the good man's smile.
His ready smile a parent's warmth expressed,
Their welfare pleased him, and their cares distressed;
To them his heart, his love, his griefs were given,
But all his serious thoughts had rest in heaven.
As some tall cliff, that lifts its awful form,
Swells from the vale, and midway leaves the storm,-
Though round its breast the rolling clouds are spread,
Eternal sunshine settles on its head.
THE VILLAGE SCHOOLMASTER.
BESIDE yon straggling fence, that skirts the way
With blossomed furze unprofitably gay,
There, in his noisy mansion, skilled to rule,
The village master taught his little school.
A man severe he was, and stern to view :
I knew him well, and every truant knew.
Well had the boding tremblers learned to trace
The day's disasters in his morning face;
Full well they laughed, with counterfeited glee,
At all his jokes-for many a joke had he;
Full well the busy whisper, circling round,
Conveyed the dismal tidings when he frowned.
Yet he was kind; or, if severe in aught,
The love he bore to learning was in fault.
The village all declared how much he knew ;
'Twas certain he could write, and cipher too;
Lands he could measure; terms and tides presage;
And e'en the story ran, that he could-gauge.
In arguing too, the parson owned his skill;
For, e'en though vanquished, he could argue still ;
While words of learnèd length and thundering sound
Amazed the gazing rustics ranged around :
And still they gazed; and still the wonder grew,
That one small head—could carry all he knew.
THE HERMIT; OR, EDWIN AND ANGELINA.
"TURN, gentle Hermit of the dale,
And guide my lonely way,
To where yon taper cheers the vale
With hospitable ray.
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 phantom only 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,
I give it with good will.
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,
I learn to pity them :
But from the mountain's grassy side
A guiltless feast I bring;
A scrip with herbs and fruit supplied,
And water from the spring.
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
Received the harmless pair.
And now when busy clouds retire
To take their evening rest,
The Hermit trimmed his little fire,
And cheered his pensive guest;
And spread his sympathetic store,
And gaily pressed, and smiled;
And, skilled in legendary lore,
The lingering hours beguiled.
Around in sympathetic mirth
Its tricks the kitten tries,
The cricket chirrups in the hearth,
The crackling faggot flies.
But nothing could a charm impart,
To soothe the stranger's woe :
For grief was heavy at his heart,
And tears began to flow.
His rising cares the hermit spied,
With answering care opprest;
And "Whence, unhappy youth,” he cried,
"The sorrows of thy breast?
From better habitations spurned
Reluctant dost thou rove?
Or grieve for friendship unreturned,
Or unregarded love?
Alas! the joys that fortune brings
Are trifling, and decay;
And those who prize the paltry things,
More trifling still than they.
And what is friendship but a name,
A charm that lulls to sleep!
A shade that follows wealth or fame,
And leaves the wretch to weep?
And love is still an emptier sound,
The modern fair one's jest ;
On earth unseen, or only found
To warm the turtle's nest.
For shame, fond youth! thy sorrows hush,
And spurn the sex," he said;
But, while he spoke, a rising blush
His love-lorn guest betrayed.
Surprised, he sees new beauties rise,
Swift mantling to the view,
Like colours o'er the morning skies;
As bright, as transient too.
The bashful look, the rising breast,
Alternate spread alarms;
The lovely stranger stands confest,
A maid in all her charms.
"And, ah! forgive a stranger rude,
A wretch forlorn," she cried ;
"Whose feet unhallowed thus intrude
Where heaven and you reside.
But let a maid thy pity share
Whom love has taught to stray; Who seeks for rest, but finds despair Companion of her way.
My father lived beside the Tyne,
A wealthy lord was he ;
And all his wealth was marked as mine:
He had but only me.
To win me from his tender arms
Unnumbered suitors came;
Who praised me for imputed charms,
And felt or feigned a flame.
Each hour a mercenary crowd
With richest proffers strove :
Among the rest, young Edwin bowed,
But never talked of love.
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