"To win me from his tender arms, "Unnumber'd fuitors came; "Who prais'd me for imputed charms, "And felt or feign'd a flame. "Each hour a mercenary crowd "With richest proffers ftrove: "Among the reft young Edwin bow'd, "But never talk'd of love. "In humble fimpleft habit clad, "The bloffom opening to the day, "The dews of heav'n refin'd, "Could nought of purity display "To emulate his mind. "The dew, the bloffom on the tree, "With charms inconftant fhine; "Their charms were his; but, woe to me! "Their conftancy was mine. "For ftill I try'd each fickle art, "Importunate and vain; "And, while his paffion touch'd my heart, "I triumph'd in his pain: Till, quite dejected with my scorn, "And fought a folitude forlorn, "But mine the forrow, mine the fault, "And there, forlorn, defpairing hid, "Forbid it, Heaven!" the Hermit cry'd, And clafp'd her to his breast; The wond'ring fair-one turn'd to chide, 'Twas Edwin's felf that preft. "Turn, Angelina, ever dear, "My charmer, turn to fee "Thy own, thy long-loft Edwin here, Reftor'd to love and thee. "Thus let me hold thee to my heart, "And every care refign! "And fhall we never, never part, My life my all that's mine? "No; never from this hour to part, "We'll live and love fo true, "The figh that rends thy constant heart "Shall break thy Edwin's too." HYMN TO HUMANITY. BY DR. LANGHORNE. I. PARENT of virtue, if thine ear Attend not now to forrow's cry; If now the pity-streaming tear Should haply on thy cheek be dry; Indulge my votive ftrain, O fweet Humanity! II. Come, ever welcome to my breast! And grief, that makes the heart its prey, Wears fenfibility away. Then comes, fweet Nymph, inftead of thee, The gloomy fiend, Stupidity. III. may that fiend be banish'd far, Though paffions hold eternal war! Nor ever let me ceafe to know The pulfe that throbs at joy or woe; Nor may the tear that frequent flows, From private or from focial woes, E'er make this pleafing sense depart ! Ye Cares! O harden not my heart! IV. If the fair ftar of fortune fmile, V. If Heaven, in every purpose wife, VI. Howe'er exalted or depreft, The foul that one long Sabbath keeps, Alike the foolish and the vain VII. O for that sympathetic glow Or, rais'd to heav'n, implor'd the bread Or, when the heart o'er friendship's grave Which taught the holy tear to flɔw ! VIII. It comes: it fills my labouring breaft; IX. Life, fill'd with grief's diftrefsful train, |