_On leaving_ WALES.
WHY bursts the tear, as Cambria, now I leave
Thy wild variety of hill and dale,
Where fancy, fond intruder, lingers still?
Why do these parting sighs my bosom heave?
’Tis, that alas! I ne’er may view again
Those haunts, those solitary scenes I love;
But thro’ this vale of tears forsaken rove,
And taste the sad vicissitude of pain?
’Tis, that I sadly breathe a warm adieu,
To long-lost scenes of mutual amity;
’Tis, that I turn, my absent friend, to thee,
“Think on past pleasures, and solicit new!”
For thee my fervent pray’rs to Heav’n ascend,
And may we meet again as friend to friend.