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By Dr. GOLDSMITH.
EIGN, faint-like tenant of the dale,
To guide my nightly way
To yonder fire that chears the vale
With hofpitable ray.
For here, deferted, as I tread
Forbear, my fon, the fage replies,
Here to the houseless child of want
And tho' my portion is but fcant,
Then turn to-night, and freely share,
Whate'er my cell beftows,
My rushy couch and frugal fare,
My bleffing and repose.
No flocks, that range the valley free,
Taught by that power that pities me,
But from the mountain's graffy fide
A fcrip with herbs and fruits fupply'd,
Then trav'ller turn, thy cares forego,
"Nor wants that little long."
Soft as the dew from 'heav'n defcends,
His gentlé accents fell,
The modeft ftranger lowly bends,
And follows to the cell.
Far in a wilderness obfcure
The lonely manfion lay,
No ftores beneath its humble thatch
Requir'd a master's care,
But the door, op'ning with a latch,
And now, when bufy crowds retire
And fpread his vegetable ftore,
While round, in fympathetic mirth,
The cricket chirrups in the hearth,
But nothing mirthful could affuage
The penfive ftranger's woe,
For grief had feiz'd his early age, .
His rifing cares the hermit spy'd,,
And whence, unhappy youth, he cry'd,
From better habitations fpurn'd,
Or grieve for friendship unreturn'd,
Alas! the joys that fortune brings,
Are trifling, and decay;
And those who prize the paltry things,
Say, what is friendship? but a name,
A fhade that follows wealth or fame,
And what is love? an empty found,
The modern fair one's jeft; On earth unseen, or only found To warm the turtle's neft.
For fhame, fond youth, thy forrows hufh,
And fpurn the fex, he faid;
But while he spoke, a rifing blush
His love-lorn guest betray'd.
Surpriz'd he fees new beauty rife
Like colours o'er the morning fkies,
The bafhful look, the rifing breaft,
The lovely ftranger ftands confeft
And ah! forgive a ftranger rude,
Whofe feet unhallow'd thus intrude
Forgive, and let thy pious care
That feeks repofe, but finds defpair
My father liv'd, of high degree
His opulence was mine.