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For ah! it poisons like a scorpion's dart;

But why should I his childish seats display? Prompting th' ungenerous wish, the selfish scheme, Concourse, and noise, and toil, he ever tied; The stern resolve unmov'd by pity's smart,

Nor cared to mingle in the clamorous fray The troublous day, and long distressful dream, Of squabbling imps; but to the forest sped, Return, my roving Muse, resume thy purpos'd| Or roam'd at large the lonely mountain's head, theme.

Or, where the niaze of some bewilderd stream

To deep untrodden groves his footsteps led, There lived in Gothic days, as legends tell,

There would he wander wild, till Phæbus' beam, A shepheru-swain, a man of low degree ;

Shot from the western cliff, releas'd the weary Whose sires, perchance, in Fairy-land might dwell,

Sicilian groves, or vales of Arcady;
But he, I ween, was of the north countrie; Th' exploit of strength, dexterity, or speed,
A nation fam'u for song, and beauty's charms ; To him nor vanity nor joy could bring.
Zealous, yet modest ; innocent, though free;

His heart, from cruel sport estranged, would bleed Patient of toil; serene amidst alarms;

To work the woe of any living thing, Inflexible in faith; invincible in arms.

By trap, or net; by arrow, or by sling;

These he detested ; those he scorn'd 10 wield. The shepherd-swain of whom I mention made,

He wish'd to be the guardian, not the king, On Scotia's mountains fed his little Rock ;

Tyrant far less, or traitor of the field. The sickle, scythe, or plow, he never sway'd ;

And sure the sylvan reign unbloody joy might yield. An honest heart was almost all his stock; His drink the living water from the rock:

Lo! where the stripling, wrapt in wonder, roves The milky doms supplied his board, and lent

Beneath the precipice o'erbung with pine ; Their kindly neece to baffle winter's shock;

And sees, on high, amidst ih' encircling groves, And he, though oft with dust and sweat besprent,

From cliff to cliff the foaming torrents shine : Did guide and guard their wanderings, wheresoe'er While waters, woods, and winds, in concert join, they went.

And Echo swells the chorus to the skies.

Would Edwin this majestic scene resign From labor health, from health

For aught the huntsman's puny craft supplies ? contentment

Ah! no: he belter knows great Nature's charms springs : Contentment opes the source of every joy.

to prize. He envied not, he never thought of, kings;

And oft he traced the uplands, to survey,
Nor from those appetites sustain'd annoy,
That chance may frustrate, or indulgence cloy :

When o'er the sky advanc'd the kindling dawn, Nor Fate his calm and humble hopes beguiled ;

The crimson cloud, blue main, and mountain grey, He mourn'd no recreant friend, nor mistress coy,

And lake, dim-gleaming on the smoky lawn:

Far to the west the long, long vale withdrawn, For on his vows the blameless Phoebe smild,

Where twilight loves to linger for a while ; And her alone he lov'd, and lov'd her from a child.

And now he faintly kens the bounding lawn,

And villager abroad at early toil. No jealousy their dawn of love o'ercast,

But lo! the Sun appears! and heaven, earth, ocean, Nor blasted were their wedded days with strife;

smile. Each season look'd delightful as it past, To the fond husband and the faithful wise.

And ost the craggy cliff he lov'd to climb, Beyond the lowly vale of shepherd-lise

When all in mist the world below was lost. They never roam'd; secure beneath the storm

What dreadful pleasure ! there to stand sublime, Which in Ambition's lofty land is rise,

Like shipwreck'd mariner on desert coast, Where peace and love are canker'd by the worm

And view thi' enormous waste of vapor, tost of pride, each bud of joy industrious to deform.

In billows, length'ning to the horizon round,

Now scoop'd in gulss, with mountains now emThe wight, whose tale these artless lines unfold,

boss'd! Was all the offspring of this humble pair :

And hear the voice of mirth and song rebound, His birth no oracle or seer foretold ;

Flocks, herds, and waterfalls, along the hoar proNo prodigy appear’d in earth or air,

found! Nor aught that might a strange event declare. You guess each circumstance of Edwin's birth; In truth he was a strange and wayward wight, The parent's transport, and the parent's care; Fond of each gentle and each dreadful scene. The gossip's prayer for wealth, and wit, and worth ; In darkness, and in storm, he found delight: And one long summer-day of indolence and mirih. Nor less, than when on ocean-wave serene

The southern Sun diffus'd his dazzling sheen And yet poor Edwin was no vulgar boy,

Even sad vicissitude amus'd his soul : Deep thought oft seem'd to fix his infant eye And if a sigh would sometimes intervene, Dainties he heeded not, nor gaud, nor toy,

And down his cheek a tear of pity roll, Save one short pipe of rudest minstrelsy;

A sigh, a tear, so sweet, he wish'd not to controi. Silent when glad ; affectionate, though shy; And now his look was most demurely sad ; "O) ye wild groves, 0 where is now your bloom ! And now he laugh'd aloud, yet none knew why. (The Muse interprets thus his tender thought,) The neighbors star'd and sigh'd, yet bless'd the lad: Your flowers, your verdure, and your balmy Some deem'd him wondrous wise, and some be

gloom, liev'd hin mad.

of late so grateful in the hour of drougnt!

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