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Too delicate employ, as would appear,
For One, who, though of drooping mien, had yet,
From Nature's kindliness, received a frame
Robust as ever rural labour bred."
The Solitary answered. "Such a Form
Full well I recollect. We often crossed
Each other's path; but, as the Intruder seemed
Fondly to prize the silence which he kept,
And I as willingly did cherish mine,
We met, and passed, like shadows. I have heard,
From my good Host, that he was crazed in brain
By unrequited love; and scaled the rocks,
Dived into caves, and pierced the matted woods,
In hope to find some virtuous herb, of power
To cure his malady!"
The Vicar smiled,
"Alas! before to-morrow's sun goes down
His habitation will be here: for him
That open grave is destined."
"Died he then
Of pain and grief," the Solitary asked,
"Believe it not—oh! never could that be!"
