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With answering care oppreft:

"And whence, unhappy youth," he cry'd,

"The forrows of thy breaft?

"From better habitations fpurn'd, "Reluctant dost thou rove:

"Or grieve for friendship unreturn'd,

"Or unregarded love?

"Alas! the joys that fortune brings,

"Are trifling and decay;

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"And those who prize the paltry things,

"More trifling ftill than they.

"And what is friendship but a name,

"A charm that lulls to fleep; "A fhade that follows wealth or fame,

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"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 hush,

"And fpurn the fex," he said:

But while he spoke, a rifing blush

His lovelorn guest betray'd.

Surpriz'd he sees new beauties rise,

Swift mantling to the view; Like colours o'er the morning skies, As bright, as tranfient too.

The bashful look, the rifing breast,

Alternate spread alarms :

The lovely flranger ftands confeft

A maid in all her charms.

"And, ah, forgive a stranger rude,

"A wretch forlorn," fhe cry'd;

"Whose feet unhallow'd thus intrude

"Where heav'n and you refide.

"But let a maid thy pity share,

"Whom love has taught to stray; "Who feeks for reft, but finds despair

"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.

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"In humbleft, fimpleft habit clad,
"No wealth or pow'r 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 bloffoms of the tree,

"With charms inconftant fhine;

"Their charms were his, but wo to me,

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Importunate and vain ;

"And while his paffion touch'd my heart,

"I triumph'd in his pain.

"Till quite dejected with my scorn, "He left me to my pride;

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

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"But mine the forrow, mine the fault,

"And well my life fhall pay ; "I'll feek the folitude he fought,

"And ftretch me where he lay.

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

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"And fo for him will I."

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"Forbid it, Heav'n!" the Hermit cry'd,

And clafp'd her to his breast:

The wond'ring fair one turn'd to chide.

'Twas Edwin's felf that preft.

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"Thus let me hold thee to my heart,

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ΑΝ

E LE GY

ON THE

DEATH OF A MAD DOG.

GOOD people, all of ev'ry fort,

Give ear unto my fong;

And if you find it wondrous fhort,
It cannot hold you long.

In Ifling-ton there was a man,
Of whom the world might fay,
That still a godly race he ran,
Whene'er he went to pray.

A kind and gentle heart he had,
To comfort friends and foes;
The naked ev'ry day he clad,
When he put on his cloaths.

And in that town a dog was found,
As many dogs there be,

Both mungrel, puppy, whelp and hound,

And curs of low degree.

This dog and man at firft were friends;

But when a pique began,

The dog, to gain his private ends,

Went mad and bit the man.

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