Silence ensued: and Edwin raised his eyes
In tears, for grief lay heavy at his heart.
‘And is it thus in courtly life,’ (he cries)
‘That man to man acts a betrayer’s part?
‘And dares he thus the gifts of heaven pervert,
‘Each social instinct, and sublime desire?
‘Hail Poverty! if honour, wealth, and art,
‘If what the great pursue, and learned admire,
‘Thus dissipate and quench the soul’s ethereal fire!’
XXIII.
He said, and turned away; nor did the Sage
O’erhear, in silent orisons employed.
The Youth, his rising sorrow to assuage,
Home as he hied, the evening scene enjoyed:
For now no cloud obscures the starry void;
The yellow moonlight sleeps on all the hills;
Nor is the mind with startling sounds annoyed;
A soothing murmur the lone region fills,
Of groves, and dying gales, and melancholy rills.
But he, from day to day, more anxious grew.
The voice still seemed to vibrate on his ear.
Nor durst he hope the Hermit’s tale untrue;
For man he seemed to love, and heaven to fear;
And none speaks false, where there is none to hear.
‘Yet, can man’s gentle heart become so fell?
‘No more in vain conjecture let me wear
‘My hours away, but seek the Hermit’s cell;
‘Tis he my doubt can clear, perhaps my care dispel.’
XXV.
At early dawn the youth his journey took,
And many a mountain passed, and valley wide,
Then reached the wild; where, in a flowery nook,
And seated on a mossy stone, he spied
An ancient man: his harp lay him beside.
A stag sprang from the pasture at his call,
And, kneeling, licked the withered hand, that tied
A wreath of woodbine round his antlers tall,
And hung his lofty neck with many a floweret small.
And now the hoary Sage arose, and saw
The wanderer approaching: innocence
Smiled on his glowing cheek, but modest awe
Depressed his eye, that feared to give offence.
‘Who art thou, courteous stranger? and from whence?
‘Why roam thy steps to this abandoned dale?’
‘A shepherd-boy (the Youth replied), far hence
‘My habitation; hear my artless tale;
‘Nor levity nor falsehood shall thine ear assail.