HERMIT OF WARKWORTH.
PART FIRST
Dark was the night, and wild the storm,
And loud the torrent’s roar;
And loud the sea was heard to dash
Against the distant shore.
Musing on man’s weak hapless state,
The lonely hermit lay;
When, lo! he heard a female voice
Lament in sore dismay.
With hospitable haste he rose,
And wak’d his sleeping fire;
And snatching up a lighted brand,
Forth hied the reverend sire.
All sad beneath a neighbouring tree,
A beauteous maid he found,
Who beat her breast, and with her tears
Bedew’d the mossy ground.
O weep not, lady, weep not so,
Nor let vain fears alarm;
My little eell shall shelter thee,
And keep thee safe from barm.
It is not for myself I weep,
Nor for myself I fear;
But for my dear and only friend,
Who lately left me here.
And while some sheltering bower he sought,
Within this lonely wood,
Ah! sore I fear his wandering feet
Have slipped in yonder flood.
O trust in Heaven, the hermit said,
And to my cell repair;
Doubt not but I shall find thy friend.
And ease thee of thy care.
Then climbing up his rocky stairs,
He scales the cliff so high,
And calls aloud, and waves his light
To guide the stranger's eye.
Among the thickets long he winds,
With careful steps and slow:
At length a voice returned his call,
Quick answering from below;
