And spread his vegetable store,

And gaily prest, and smiled; And, skilled in legendary lore,

The ling'ring 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 sooth the stranger's wo;
For grief was heavy at his heart,
And tears began to flow..

His rising cares the Hermit spied,
With answ'ring 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 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 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 :
Amongst the rest young Edwin bowed
But never talked of love.

"In humble, simplest habit clad,
No wealth nor power had he :
Wisdom and worth were all he had,
But these were all to me.

"The blossom opening to the day,
The dews of heaven refined,

Could naught of purity display,
To emulate his mind.

"The dew, the blossom on the tree,

With charms inconstant shine; Their charms were his, but, wo to me! Their constancy was mine.

"For still I tried each fickle art,

Importunate and vain ;

And while his passion touched my heart, I triumphed in his pain:

"Till, quite dejected with my scorn,

He left me to my pride;

And sought a solitude forlorn

In secret, where he died.

"But mine the sorrow, mine the fault,
And well my life shall pay ;
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, heaven!" the Hermit cried, And clasped her to his breast: The wond'ring fair one turned to chide : 'Twas Edwin's self that prest.

"Turn, Angelina, ever dear,
My charmer, turn to see
Thy own, thy long-lost Edwin here,
Restored to love and thee.

"Thus let me hold thee to my heart,
And ev'ry care resign.

And shall we never, never part,
My life--my all that's mine?

"No, never, from this hour to part;
We'll live and love so true,

The sigh that rends thy constant heart, Shall break thy Edwin's too."

RETALIATION.*

OF
F old, when Scarron his companions invited,
Each guest brought his dish, and the feast was united.
If our flandlord supplies us with beef and with fish,
Let each guest bring himself, and he brings the best
dish:

Our Dean shall be venison, just fresh from the plains;

Our §Burke shall be tongue with a garnish of brains;

* First printed in 1774, after the author's death. Dr. Goldsmith, and some of his friends occasionally dined at St. James's Coffee-house. One day it was proposed to write epitaphs on him. His country, dialect, and person, furnished subjects of witticism. He was called on for retaliation, and at their next meeting produced the following poem.

† The master of the St. James's Coffee-house, where the Doctor, and the friends he has characterised in this poem, occasionally dined.

+ Doctor Barnard, dean of Derry, in Ireland. § Mr. Edmund Burke.