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The dame, who own’d, adorn’d the place ;
Imagine now the table clear,
“ Faith, friends, our errand is but vain-
THE SWEET NEGLECT.
As you were going to a feast;
THE HERMIT AND HIS DOG.
IN life's fair morn,. I knew an aged seer,
Who sad and lonely pass’d his jovlefs year; Betray'd, heart-broken, from the world he ran, And shunn'd, oh, dire extreme! the face of man ; Humbly he rear'd his hut within the wood, Hermit his vert, an hermit's was his food. Nitch'd in some corner of the gelid cave Where chilling drops the rugged rock-stone lave; Hour after hour, the melancholy sage, Drop after drop, to reckon, would engage The ling'ring day, and trickling as they fell, A tear went with them to the narrow well; Then thus he moraliz’d, as slow it pass’d, “ This brings me nearer LUCIA than the last; “ And this, now streaming from the eye,” said he, « Oh, my lov’d child! will bring me nearer thee.”
When first he roam’d, his DOG with anxious care, His wand'rings watch'd, as emulous to fare; In vain the faithful brute was bid to go, In vain the forrower fought a lonely woe. The HERMIT paus'd, th' attendant dog was near, Slept at his feet, and caught the falling tear; Up rose the HERMIT, up the dog would rife, And ev'ry way to win a matter tries.“ Then be it io. Come, faithful fool,” he said; One pat encourag'd, and they fought the shade; An unfrequented thicket foon they found, And both repos’d upon the leafy ground; Mellifluous murin’rings told the fountains nigh, Fountains, which well a pilgrim's drink fupply: And thence, by many a labyrinth led, Where ev'ry tree beftow'd an ev’ning bed. Skill'd in the chace the faithful creature brought Whate'er at morn or moon-light course he caught; But the fage lent his sympathy to all, Nor law unwept his dumb allociates tall,
He was, in footh, the gentlest of his kind, And, though an HERMIT, had a social mind : “ And why,” said he, “ must man fubfift by prey? “ Why, stop yon melting music on the spray? “ Why, when assail'd by hounds and hunters' cry, 66 Mult half the harmlets race in terrors die ? “ Why must we work of innocence the woe ? “ Still fhall this bofom throb, these eyes o’erflow: “ An heart too tender here, from man, retires, “ An heart that aches, if but a wren expires.” Thus liv'd the mafier good, the servant true, "Till to its God the master's fpirit few; Beside a fount, which daily water gave, Stooping to drink, the Hermit found a grave; All in the running stream his garments spread, And dark, damp verdure ill conceal'd his head; The faithful SERVANT from that fatal day Watch'd the lov'd corse, and hourly pin’d away: His head upon his master's cheek was found, While the obstructed water mourn’d around.
TO THE FEATHER'D RACE. AGAIN the balmy zephyr blows,
Fresh verdure decks the grove, Each bird with vernal rapture glows,
And tunes his note to love. Ye gentle warblers, hither fly,
And fun the noon-tide heat;
My groves a safe retreat.
Or weave the mossy neit;
At night here sweetly reft.
That trickles down the glade,
And revel in the thade.
No school-boy rude, to mischief prone,
E’er shews his ruddy face,
In this fequefter'd place.
Secure the LINNET sings,
To clog her painted wings.
Yon distant woods among,
Thy sweetly-plaintive fong.
Domeftic bird, to come
With one that loves his home!
Shall store of fruit preferve ;
Come!-feed without reserve.
To you these plumbs belong :
But sweeter far your song.
Our mutual intretis guard :
Your songs be my reward.
Some boundless contiguity of thade,