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“ And, ah ! forgive a stranger rude,
A wretch forlorn,” she cry'd; “ Whose feet unhallow'd thus intrude
Where heav'n 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 liv'd beside the Tyne,
A wealthy lord was he ; And all his wealth was mark'd as mine,
He had but only me.
“ To win me from his tender arms
Unnumber'd suitors came, Who prais'd me for imputed charms,
And felt, or feign’d a flame.
« Each hour a mercenary crowd
With richest proffers strove; Among the rest young Edwin bow'd,
But never talk'd of love.
“ In humble, simplest habit clad,
No wealth or pow'r had he; Wisdom and worth were all he had,
But these were all to me.
“ The blossom op'ning to the day,
The dews of heav'n refin’d, Could nought of purity display
To emulate his mind.
« The dew, the blossoms of the tree,
With charms inconstant shine; Their charms were his, but, woe to me,
Their constancy was mine.
“ For still I try'd each fickle art,
Importunate and vain; And while his passion touch'd my heart,
I triumph'd in his pain.
“Till quite dejected with my scorn,
He left me to my pride; And sought a solitude forlorn
In secret where he dy'd.
“ But mine the sorrow, mine the fault, And well
payi I'll seek the solitude he sought,
And stretch me where he lay.
“ And there forlorn, despairing, hid,
I'll lay me down and die ; 'Twas so for me that Edwin did,
And so for him will I.”
“ Forbid it, heav'n!” 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 prest.
“ Turn, Angelina, ever dear,
My charmer, turn to see
Restor'd to love and thee.
• Thus let me hold thee to my heart,
And ev'ry care resign:
My life--my all that's mine?