Around in sympathetic mirth Its tricks the kitten tries, The cricket chirrups in the hearth; The crackling faggot flies.
But nothing could a charm impart To sooth the stranger’s woe; For grief was heavy at his heart, And tears began to flow.
His rising cares the hermit spy’d, With answering care opprest: ‘And whence, unhappy youth,’ he cry’d, ‘The sorrows of thy breast?
‘From better habitations spurn’d, Reluctant dost thou rove; Or grieve for friendship unreturn’d, Or unregarded love?
‘Alas! the joys that fortune brings, Are trifling and decay; And those who prize the paltry things, More trifling still than they.
‘And what is friendship but a name, A charm that lulls to sleep; A shade that follows wealth or fame, But leaves the wretch to weep?
‘And love is still an emptier sound, The modern fair one’s jest: On earth unseen, or only found To warm the turtle’s nest.
‘For shame fond youth thy sorrows hush And spurn the sex,’ he said: But while he spoke a rising blush His love-lorn guest betray’d.
Surpriz’d he sees new beauties rise, Swift mantling to the view; Like colours o’er the morning skies, As bright, as transient too.