"Here to the houseless child of want

"My door is open still;

"And though my portion is but scant,

"I give it with good will.

"Then turn to-night, and freely share

"Whate'er my cell bestows;

"My rushy couch and frugal fare,

"My blessing, and repose.

"No flocks that range the valley free,

"To slaughter I condemn;

"Taught by that Power that pities me,

"I learn to pity them:

“But from the mountain's grassy side

"A guiltless feast I bring;

"A scrip, with herbs and fruits supply'd,

"And water from the spring.

"Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego;

"All 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

The lonely mansion lay;

A refuge to the neighb'ring poor,

And strangers led astray.

No stores beneath its humble thatch

Requir'd a master's care;

The wicket op'ning with a latch,

Receiv'd the harmless pair.

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 prest, and smil'd;

And, skill'd in legendary lore,

The ling'ring hours beguil'd

Around, in sympathetic mirth,
Its tricks the kitten tries;

The cricket chirrups in the heart;
The crackling faggot 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 spy'd,

With answering care opprest:

"And whence, unhappy youth," he cry'd,

"The sorrows of thy breast?

"From better habitations spurn'd,

"Reluctant dost thou rove;

"Or grieve for friendship 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 than they.

"And what is friendship 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 sex," he said:

But while he spoke, a rising blush
His love-lorn guest betray'd.

Surpris'd 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 confest

A maid in all her charms.