One pang, my girl, and all is over.

Alas! that pang will be severe,

Which bids us part, to meet no more;

Which tears me far from one so dear,

Departing for a distant shore.

Well! we have pass'd some happy hours,

And joy will mingle with our tears;

When thinking on these ancient towers,

The shelter of our infant years.

Where from this gothic casement's height,

We view'd the lake, the park, the dell,

And still though tears obstruct our sight,

We lingering look a last farewell.—

O'er fields, through which we us'd to run,

And spend the hours in childish play,

O'er shades where, when our race was done,

Reposing on my breast you lay,

Whilst I, admiring, too remiss,

Forgot to scare the hovering flies,

[pg 11]

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