the hermit
So calmly still, the dewy air
Seemed but to breathe in slumber there.
High rocks encircled that lone vale,
Where dwelt the hero of our tale.
A man, by age and sorrow bent,
Had years of loneliness here spent—
In this lone valley, far removed'
From all he ever knew or loved.
But deem not that he friendless dwelt,
Or that all feeling was unfelt:
The tow'ring rocks that fiercely flung
Their giant fragments o'er the vale—
The feeble flowers that closely clung
To those rude tenements of the dale—
The sweeping wind, the murmuring breeze,
The shadowed foliage of the trees,—
All things in nature seemed to be
The friends of his adversity.
Seemed but to breathe in slumber there.
High rocks encircled that lone vale,
Where dwelt the hero of our tale.
A man, by age and sorrow bent,
Had years of loneliness here spent—
In this lone valley, far removed'
From all he ever knew or loved.
But deem not that he friendless dwelt,
Or that all feeling was unfelt:
The tow'ring rocks that fiercely flung
Their giant fragments o'er the vale—
The feeble flowers that closely clung
To those rude tenements of the dale—
The sweeping wind, the murmuring breeze,
The shadowed foliage of the trees,—
All things in nature seemed to be
The friends of his adversity.
Long years had faded life's young bloom,
And wrapt his soul in shades of gloom,
And wrapt his soul in shades of gloom,
2
