PART II.

_Cuthbert the Foundling._

O fair Devonia! Land of the brave and leal, how bright thy skies! How fresh do show thy rich and verdant meads! How clear the streams! which from thy hills do run: How grim the tors! which granite rocks do crown: How sweet the glens! whose depths the forest hides: How blue the seas! which ruddy rocks do bound: Fain would I seek amidst such beauty--rest: And bid the world--Adieu.