OUR anchorite, in begging through the place;
This girl beheld,—but not with eyes of grace.
Said he, she'll do, and, if thou manag'st right,
Lucius, at times, with her to pass the night.
No time he lost, his wishes to secure:
The means, we may suppose, not over pure.
QUITE near the open fields they lived, I've said;
An humble, boarded cottage o'er their head.
One charming night—no, I mistake 'tis plain,
Our hermit, favoured much by wind and rain,