Page:1808 Poems by Felicia Dorothea Browne.pdf/77



 "Now, while my plaintive carols flow, "Let pity in thy bosom glow;" And I will consecrate to thee, The wildest note of liberty.

 

, view this mossy dell, View the woodland hermit's cell; And if thou love the rustic scene, And love to court the muse serene; If virtue to thy soul be dear, And sometimes melancholy's tear; Oh! thou wilt view the vale around, As if 'twere consecrated ground. The pious hermit here retir'd, With love of solitude inspir'd; He lov'd the scene of this retreat, This smiling dell to him was sweet; And here he sought for hallow'd rest, To calm the sorrows of his breast; And resignation with a smile, His tear of grief would oft beguile; Would soothe to peace his tranquil age, In this romantic hermitage.