MacMillan's Reading Books Part 3

And now, when busy crowds retire To take their evening rest, The Hermit trimm'd his little fire, And cheer'd his pensive guest;

And spread his vegetable store, And gaily pressed, and smiled; And, skill'd in legendary lore, The lingering hours beguiled.

Around, in sympathetic mirth, Its tricks the kitten tries, The cricket chirrups on the hearth, The crackling f.a.ggot flies.

But nothing could a charm impart To soothe the stranger's woe; For grief was heavy at his heart, And tears began to flow.

His rising cares the Hermit spied, With answering care oppress'd; And, "Whence, unhappy youth," he cried, "The sorrows of thy breast?"

"From better habitations spurn'd, Reluctant dost thou rove?

Or grieve for friends.h.i.+p unreturn'd, Or unregarded love?"

"Alas! the joys that fortune brings Are trifling, and decay; And those who prize the paltry things, More trifling still are they."

"And what is friends.h.i.+p but a name, A charm that lulls to sleep; A shade that follows wealth or fame, But 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 s.e.x," he said; But while he spoke, a rising blush His love-lorn guest betray'd.

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 confess'd A maid in all her charms.

And, "Ah! forgive a stranger rude-- A wretch forlorn," she cried; "Whose feet unhallow'd thus intrude Where Heaven 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 mark'd as mine, He had but only me."

"To win me from his tender arms Unnumber'd suitors came, Who praised me for imputed charms, And felt, or feign'd, a flame."

"Each hour a mercenary crowd With richest proffers strove: Amongst the rest, young Edwin bow'd, But never talk'd of love."

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

"And when, beside me in the dale, He caroll'd lays of love, His breath lent fragrance to the gale, And music to the grove.

"The blossom opening to the day, The dews of heaven refined, Could nought of purity display To emulate his mind.

"The dew, the blossom on the tree, With charms inconstant s.h.i.+ne: Their charms were his, but, woe to me, Their constancy was mine.

"For still I tried each fickle art, Importunate and vain; And, while his pa.s.sion touch'd my heart, I triumph'd 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 clasp'd her to his breast: The wondering fair one turn'd to chide-- 'Twas Edwin's self that press'd!

"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 every 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."

GOLDSMITH.

[Notes: _Oliver Goldsmith_, poet and novelist. The friend and contemporary of Johnson, Burke, and Reynolds. Born 1728, died 1774.

This poem is introduced into 'The Vicar of Wakefield,' and Goldsmith there says of it, "It is at least free from the false taste of loading the lines with epithets;" or as he puts it more fully "a string of epithets that improve the sound without carrying on the sense."

"_Immeasurably spread_" = spread to an immeasurable length.

_No flocks that range the valleys free_. "Free" may be joined either with flocks or with valley.

Note the position of the negative, "No flocks that range," &c. = I do not condemn the flocks that range.

_Guiltless feast_. Because it does not involve the death of a fellow-creature.

_Scrip_. A purse or wallet; a word of Teutonic origin.

Distinguish from scrip, a writing or certificate, from the Latin word _scribo_, I write.

_Far in a wilderness obscure_. Obscure goes with mansion, not with wilderness.

_And gaily pressed_ (him to eat).

_With answering care_, i.e., with sympathetic care.

_A charm that lulls to sleep_. Charm is here in its proper sense: that of a thing pleasing to the fancy is derivative.

_A shade that follows wealth or fame_. A shade = a ghost or phantom.

_Swift mantling_, &c. Spreading quickly over, like a cloak or mantle.