INSCRIPTION I.

Here Stranger rest thee! from the neighbouring towers

Of Oxford, haply thou hast forced thy bark

Up this strong stream, whose broken waters here

Send pleasant murmurs to the listening sense:

Rest thee beneath this hazel; its green boughs

Afford a grateful shade, and to the eye

Fair is its fruit: Stranger! the seemly fruit

Is worthless, allis hollowness within,

For on the grave of ROSAMUND it grows!

Young lovely and beloved she fell seduced,

And here retir'd to wear her wretched age

In earnest prayer and bitter penitence,

Despis'd and self-despising: think of her

Young Man! and learn to reverence Womankind!