THE HERMIT. BY DR. GOLDSMITH. THIS and "The Friar of Orders Gray" were written nearly at the same time; and they are both indebted, for some parts of the narrative and imagery, to an old fragment,-" The Gentle Herdsman," printed in Percy's Reliques, v. 2, 87. Dr. Percy has, in addition, embodied in his poem, several little fragments of old ballads, now lost, contained in the plays of Shakspeare. "TURN, gentle Hermit of the dale, To where yon taper cheers the vale "For here, forlorn and lost, I tread, 66 Forbear, my son," the hermit cries, "To tempt the dangerous gloom! For yonder faithless phantom flies To lure thee to thy doom. "Which the base vulgar do call" Jack o' the Lantern. A legend of a certain FRIAR JOHN, appears in old times to have been, somehow or other, "Here to the houseless child of want My door is open still; And, though my portion is but scant, "Then turn to-night, and freely share My rushy couch and frugal fare,— My blessing, and repose. popularly connected with this treacherous luminary; at least, in the absence of opportunity for further search, we may infer as much from the words of Milton: "She was pinched and pulled, she said, And he by FRIAR's lantern led."-L'Allegro. The Ignis Fatuus, i. e. wild-fire, according to Volta, consists of inflammable air, produced by the dissolution of vegetable matter contained in marshy places, and fired by the electric properties of fogs and other atmospheric agencies. Another meteoric appearance, commonly seen on the banks of rivers, is styled Draco Volans, i. e. Flying Dragon, and is of a more dense nature than the first, adhering to the clothes of those who approach it, without the slightest combustible effect. The different properties of various earthy meteors are thus alluded to by Thomson: "Drear is the state of the benighted wretch, Who then, bewildered, wanders through the dark, That winding leads through pits of death, or else Instructs him how to take the dangerous ford."-Autumn. ED. "No flocks, that range the valley free, Taught by that Power who pities me, "But from the mountain's grassy side A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied, "Then, pilgrim, turn-thy cares forego; Soft as the dew from heaven descends, The modest stranger lowly bends, And follows to the cell. Far in a wilderness obscure, No stores beneath its humble thatch And now, when busy crowds retire And spread his vegetable store, The lingering hours beguiled. Around, in sympathetic mirth, But nothing could a charm impart His rising cares the hermit 'spied, "From better habitations spurned, Or grieve for friendship unreturned, "Alas! the joys that fortune brings Are trifling, and decay; And those who prize the paltry things, "And what is friendship but a name, "And love is still an emptier sound, * This, with many other pictorial descriptions in this ballad, have ever gained the admiration of all readers of taste and feeling. They are especially the delight of children—and they are by no means the worst judges of what is true to nature; and if the sight of these, in after-life, should excite a vivid recollection of that happy and innocent age, the effect on the mind must certainly be pleasing, and might be improving and beneficial.-ED. "For shame, fond youth! thy sorrows hush, And spurn the sex," he said; Surprised, he sees new beauties rise, The bashful look, the rising breast, The lovely stranger stands confest, And, "Ah! forgive a stranger rude, "But let a maid thy pity share, 66 My father lived beside the Tyne, And all his wealth was marked as mine, "To win me from his tender arms, Unnumbered suitors came; "Each hour a mercenary crowd With richest proffers strove; Among the rest young Edwin bowed, |