XVI.

And yet poor Edwin was no vulgar boy, Deep thought oft seem'd to fix his infant eye. Dainties he heeded not, nor gaud, nor toy, Save one short pipe of rudest minstrelsy: Silent when glad; affectionate, though shy; And now his look was most demurely sad; And now he laugh'd aloud, yet none knew why. The neighbours star'd and sigh'd, yet bless'd the lad: Some deem'd him wondrous wise, and some believ'd him mad.