POEM OF THE DAY : THE HERMIT, A BALLAD.by OLIVER GOLDSMITH

THE HERMIT. : A BALLAD.

by OLIVER GOLDSMITH 

"Turn, gentle hermit of the dale,

And guide my lonely way

To where yon taper cheers the vale

With hospitable ray.

"For here forlorn and lost I tread,

With fainting steps and slow;

Where wilds immeasurably spread,

Seem lengthening as I go."

"Forbear, my son," the hermit cries,

"To tempt the dangerous gloom;

For yonder faithless phantom flies

To lure thee to thy doom.

"Here to the houseless child of want

My door is open still;

And though my portion is but scant

I give it with good will.

"Then turn to-night, and freely share

Whate'er my cell bestows:

My rushy couch and frugal far

My blessing, and repose.

"No flocks that range the valley free

To slaughter I condemn;

Taught by that Power that pities me,

I learn to pity them.

"But from the mountain's grassy side

A guiltless feast I bring;

A scrip with herbs and fruits supplied,

And water from the spring.

"Then, pilgrim, turn, thy cares forego;

All earth-born cares are wrong;

Man wants but little here below,

Nor wants that little long."

Soft as the dew from heaven descends,

His gentle accents fell:

The modest stranger lowly bends,

And follows to the cell.

Far in a wilderness obscure

The lonely mansion lay;

A refuge to the neighbouring poor,

And strangers led astray.

No stores beneath its humble thatch

Required a master's care;

The wicket, opening with a latch,

Received the harmless pair.

And now, when busy crowds retire

To take their evening rest,

The hermit trimmed his little fire

And cheered his pensive guest;

And spread his vegetable store,

And gaily pressed, and smiled;

And skilled in legendary lore

The lingering hours beguiled.

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 soothe the strangers woe;

For grief was heavy at his heart,

And tears began to flow.

His rising cares the hermit spied,

With answering care opprest:

"And whence, unhappy youth," he cried,

"The sorrows of thy breast?

"From better habitations spurned,

Reluctant dost thou rove?

Or grieve for friendship unreturned,

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 betrayed.

Surprised he sees new beauties rise,

Swift mantling to the view;

Like colours o'er the morning skies,

As bright, as transient too.

The bashful look, the rising breast,

Alternate spread alarms:

The lovely stranger stands confest

A maid in all her charms!

And "Ah, forgive a stranger rude,

A wretch forlorn," she cried;

"Whose feet unhallowed thus intrude

Where heaven and you reside.

"But let a maid thy pity share,

Whom love has taught to stray;

Who seeks for rest, but finds despair

Companion of her way.

"My father lived beside the Tyne,

A wealthy lord was he:

And all his wealth was marked as mine;

He had but only me.

"To win me from his tender arms,

Unnumbered suitors came,

Who praised me for imputed charms,

And felt or feigned a flame.

"Each hour a mercenary crowd

With richest proffers strove;

Among the rest young Edwin bowed,

But never talked of love."

"In humble, simplest habit clad,

No wealth nor power had he;

Wisdom and worth were all he had,

But these were all to me.

"The blossom opening to the day,

The dews of heaven refined,

Could nought of purity display

To emulate his mind.

"The dew, the blossom on the tree,

With charms inconstant shine;

Their charms were his, but, woe is me!

Their constancy was mine!

"For still I tried each fickle art,

Importunate and vain;

And while his passion touched my heart,

I triumphed in his pain.

"Till quite dejected with my scorn,

He left me to my pride;

And sought a solitude forlorn,

In secret where he died.

"But mine the sorrow, mine the fault,

And well my life shall pay;

I'll seek the solitude he sought,

And stretch me where he lay.

"And there forlorn, despairing, hid,

I'll lay me down and die;

'Twas so for me that Edwin did,

And so for him will I."—

"Forbid it, Heaven!" the hermit cried,

And clasped her to his breast:

The wond'ring fair one turned to chide,—

'Twas Edwin's self that prest!

"Turn, Angelina, ever dear,

My charmer, turn to see

Thy own, thy long-lost Edwin here,

Restored to love and thee!

"Thus let me hold thee to my heart,

And every care resign:

And shall we never, never part,

My life—my all that's mine?

"No, never from this hour to part,

We'll live and love so true;

The sigh that rends thy constant heart

Shall break thy Edwin's too."

💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚💚

Suri 

Good afternoon!

This ballad by Goldsmith  (THE HERMIT : A BALLAD.

by OLIVER GOLDSMITH ) was recommended to me by a friend.

Though it sounds good, am unable to fathom its meaning.

Could you kindly help please!

ChatGPT 

Good afternoon, Suri! 🌸

That’s a beautiful request — and you’re right, Goldsmith’s The Hermit (sometimes called Edwin and Angelina) can sound melodious but be hard to follow because it’s written in old-fashioned poetic diction. Let me walk you through its meaning, almost like a story retold in plain English:

Outline of the Ballad

It is really a romantic tale disguised as a moral ballad — with a touch of drama and a happy ending.

1. The Stranger Seeks Shelter

A weary traveler calls out to a hermit in the dale (valley), asking him to guide him to the light he sees afar. But the hermit warns him: that light is only a deceptive phantom, luring wanderers to their doom.

Instead, the hermit invites him to stay in his own humble cottage, where — though poor — he shares what little he has with kindness.

2. The Hermit’s Simple Life

The hermit tells how he lives gently, harming no creatures, eating only herbs, fruits, and spring water. He preaches contentment: “Man wants but little here below, nor wants that little long.”

3. Hospitality and Conversation

The traveler accepts, and they sit together by the fire, with homely cheer — kittens playing, crickets chirping, and the hermit telling old tales. But the guest is still sorrowful and begins to cry.

4. The Hermit Asks the Cause of Grief

The hermit suspects that the young man’s pain comes from rejected friendship or unrequited love. He even dismisses friendship and love as fleeting illusions — mere words that vanish when wealth and fame are gone.

But as he speaks, the guest blushes, and the hermit realizes this “youth” is actually a disguised young woman.

5. The Lady Reveals Her Story

She confesses she is Angelina, daughter of a wealthy lord by the River Tyne. Many suitors courted her for her fortune, but she only loved Edwin, a poor but virtuous young man.

Yet she was proud and cruel to him — she toyed with his feelings until, heartbroken, he withdrew into solitude and (she believes) died.

Now filled with guilt, she wanders, determined to die where Edwin died.

6. The Big Reveal

The hermit embraces her and cries out that Heaven must forbid her despair. She turns to rebuke him — only to discover it is none other than Edwin himself, alive and disguised as the hermit!

7. The Happy Ending

Edwin reveals himself, calls her “ever dear,” and they are reunited at last, pledging never to part again. The poem closes with love restored and sorrow turned to joy.

Meaning of the Poem

At one level, it is a romantic love story of separation, repentance, and reunion.

At another level, Goldsmith uses it to contrast worldly wealth and vanity (Angelina’s earlier pride) with simplicity, virtue, and contentment (the hermit/Edwin’s way of life).

The moral: True love and inner worth matter more than riches or fleeting pleasures.

✨ In short:

A proud young woman (Angelina) who once scorned her true love (Edwin) seeks him in despair, believing him dead. Disguised as a hermit, Edwin shelters her and listens to her confession. When she declares she will die for love of him, he reveals himself — and they are joyfully reunited.

Grateful thanks to ChatGPT .