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“ 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 cry'd,
And clasp'd her to his breast : The wondering fair-one turn'd to chide,
'Twas Edwin's self that prest.
“ Turn, Angelina, ever dear,
My charmer turn to see
Restor'd to love and thee.
“Thus let me hold thee to my heart,
And ev'ry care resign;
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."
THE THREE WARNINGS.
BY MRS. PIOZZI.
The tree of deepest root is found
That love of life increas'd with years
The greatest love of life appears.
This great affection to believe,
When sports went round, and all were gay,
What more he urg'd I have not heard, His reasons could not well be stronger;
So Death the poor delinquent spar'd, And left to live a little longer. Yet calling up a serious look, His hour-glass trembled while he spoke, " “ Neighbour," he said, “ farewell: no more Shall Death disturb your mirthful hour; And further to avoid all blame Of cruelty upon my name, To give you time for preparation,
your future station,
And grant a kind reprieve:
Well pleas'd the world will leave."
And fit you
What next the hero of our tale befel,
The willing Muse shall tell:
Nor thought of Death as near;
He pass’d his hours in peace :
Brought on his eightieth year.
And now one night in musing mood,
Once more before him stood.
Half killed with anger and surprise,
So soon return'd!" old Dobson cries. “ So soon, d'ye call it!" Death replies : "Surely, my friend, you're but in jest ;
Since I was here before, 'Tis six-and-thirty years at least,
And you are now foursore.” “ So much the worse,” the clown rejoin'd; To spare the aged would be kind : However, see your search be legal; And your authority-is't regal? Else you are come on a fool's errand, With but a secretary's warrant.
Besides you promis'd me Three Warnings,
“I know," cries Death, " that at the best,
“ Hold,” says the farmer, “ not so fast, I have been lame this four years past.”
“ And no great wonder," Death replies; " However, you still keep your eyes; And sure, to see one's loves and friends, For legs and arms would make aniends.”
“ Perhaps,” says Dobson, so it might, But latterly I've lost my sight.”
“ This is a shocking story, 'faith ;
“There's none,” cries he ; " and if there were, I'm grown so deaf, I could not hear."
Nay then," the spectre steru rejoin'd,
“ These are unjustifiable yearnings ; If you are Lame, and Deaf, and Blind,
You've had your Three sufficient Warnings.