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, all is 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!