Our family dined in the field, and we fat, or rather reclined, round a temperate repast, our cloth fpread upon the hay, while Mr. Burchell gave cheerfulness to the feaft. To heighten our fatisfaction, two blackbirds answered each other from appofite hedges, the familiar redbreaft came and pecked the crumbs from our hands, and every found feemed but the echo of tranquillity. I never fit thus,' fays Sophia, but I think of the two lovers, fo fweetly defcribed by Mr. Gay, who were ftruck dead in each other's " arms. There is fomething fo pathetic in the defcription, that I have read it an hundred times with new rapture.'- In my opinion,' cried my fon, the finest strokes in that defcription are much below 'thofe in the Acis and Galatea of Ovid. The Roman poet understands the use of contrast better, and upon that figure artfully managed all ftrength in the pathetic depends.' It is remarkable,' cried Mr. Burchell, that both the poets you mention have equally contributed to introduce a falfe tafte into their respective countries, yeding all their lines 'with epithet. Men of little genius found them moft eafily imitated in their defects; and English poetry, like that in the latter empire of Rome, is nothing at present but a combination of luxuriant images, without plot or connexion; a ftring of epithets that improve the found without carrying on the fenfe. But 'perhaps, Madam, while I thus reprehend others, you'll think it juft that I fhould give them an opportunity to retaliate; and indeed I have made this remark only to have an opportunity of introducing to the company a ballad, which, whatever be its other defects, is, I think, at least free from thofe I have ⚫ mentioned.'

A BALLAD.

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

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

C 4

• For

And though 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 repose.

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 brings

A fcrip with herbs and fruits fupply'd,
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 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 strangers led aftray.

No

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 take their ev'ning rest,
The hermit trimm'd his little fire,
And cheer'd his pensive guest;
And spread his vegetable store,
And gaily preft and smil'd;
And kill'd in legendary lore,
The ling'ring hours beguil'd.
Around in fympathetic mirth
Its tricks the kitten tries;
The cricket chirrups in 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 anfwering care oppreft:
And whence, unhappy youth,' he cry'd,
The forrows of thy breast?

• From better habitations spurn'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 those who prize the paltry things,
More trifling things than they.

And what is friendship but a name,
A charm that lulls to fleep;
A fhade that follows wealth or fame,
But leaves the wretch to weep?
C 5

• And

And love is still an emptier found,
• The modern fair-one's jeft;
On earth unfeen, or only found
To warm the turtle's neft.

For fhame, fond youth, thy forrows hufh,
And spurn the fex,' he said:
But while he spoke, a rifing blush
His love-lorn gueft betray'd.

Surpris'd he fees new beauties rise,
Swift mantling to the view;
Like colours o'er the morning fkies,
As bright, as tranfient too.

The bafhful look, the rifing breast,
Alternate spread alarms;
The lovely ftranger stands confest
A maid in all her charms.

And, Ah, forgive a stranger rude,
A wretch forlorn,' fhe cry'd;

• Whofe feet unhallow'd thus intrude Where heaven and you refide.

But let a maid thy pity fhare,

Whom love has taught to ftray;

• Who fecks for reft, but finds defpair • Companion of her way.

My father liv'd befide 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 fuitors came;

• Who prais'd me for imputed charms,

And felt, or feign'd, a fiame.

• Each hour a mercenary crowd

With richest proffers ftrove:

Among the reft young Edwin bow'd,
But never talk'd of love.

In

In humble, fimpleft habit clad,

• Nor wealth nor power had he;

• Wisdom and worth were all he had, But these were all to me.

The bloffom opening to the day,

The dews of heav'n refin'd,
• Could nought of purity display,
• To emulate his mind.

The dew, the bloffom on the tree,
With charms inconftant shine;
Their charms were his, but, woe to me!
Their conftancy was mine.

For ftill I try'd each fickle art,
Importunate and vain;

And while his paffion touch'd my heart,
• I triumph'd in his pain:

'Till quite dejected with my fcorn,
'He left me to my pride;

And fought a folitude forlorn,
In fecret, where he dy’d.

But mine the forrow, mine the fault,

And well my life shall

pay;

I'll feek the folitude he fought,
And stretch me where he lay :

And there forlorn, defpairing, hid,
'I'll lay me down and die:
"Twas fo for me that Edwin did,

And fo for him will I.'

Forbid it heav'n!' the hermit cry'd,
And clafp'd her to his breast:
The wond'ring fair-one turn'd to chide
"T was Edwin's self that prest.

Turn, Angelina, ever dear,

My charmer, turn to fee

Thy own, thy long-loft Edwin here,

Reftor'd to love and thee.

C 6

• Thus