'But first upon my trne-love's grave My weary limbs I'll lay ; And thrice I'll kiss the green-grass turf 'Yet, stay, fair lady, stay awhile See, through the hawthorn blows the wind, 'O stay me not, thou holy friar, 'Yet stay, fair lady, turn again, And dry those pearly tears; For see, beneath this gown of grey, 'Here, forc'd by grief and hopeless love, These holy weeds I sought. And here, amidst these lonely walls, To end my days I thought. 'But, haply, for my year of grace Might I still hope to win thy love, Now farewell grief, and welcome joy For since I've found thee, lovely youth, Percy DIALOGUE BETWEEN A PILGRIM AND TRA 'As ye came from the holy land O met you not with my true-love, "How should I know your true-love; 'My love is neither white nor brown, But as the heavens fair; There is none that hath her form divine, 'Such an one did I meet, good sir, Who like a nymph, a queen appear'd' 'Yes, she hath clean forsaken me And left me all alone; Who sometime lov'd me as her life, And called me her own.' 'What is the cause she leaves thee thus,.. And a new way doth take; That sometimes lov'd thee as her life, And thee her joy did make? 'I that lov'd her all my youth, Grow old now as you see; Love liketh not the falling fruit, Nor yet the withered tree. "For love is like a careless child, He is blind or deaf, whene'er he list, 'His fond desire is fickle found, And yields a trustless joy; Won with a world of toil and care, Such is the love of womankind, Of Love's fair name abus'd, Beneath which many vain desires, And follies are excus'd. 'But true love is a lasting fire, EDWIN AND ANGELINA. "TURN, gentle hermit of the dale, To where yon taper cheers the vale, 'For here forlorn and lost I tread, With fainting steps and slow; nga była wzg5} Where wilds, immeasurably spread, Seem lengthening as I go.... 'Forbear, my son,' the hermit cries, "Here to the houseless child of want, And though my, portion is but scant, Then turn to-night, and freely share My rushy couch, and frugal fare, "No flocks that range the valley free, Taught by that Power that pities me, 'But from the mountain's grassy side, A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied, "Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego; For earth-born.cares are wrong: Man wants but little here below, Nor wants that little long Soft as the dew from heav'n descends, His gentle accents fell: The modest stranger lowly bends, And follows to the cell. Far in a wilderness obscure A refuge to the neighbouring poor, No stores beneath its humble thatch And now when busy crowds retire The hermit trimm'd his little fire, And spread his vegetable store, Around in sympathetic mirth But nothing could a charm impart |