Why bursts the tear, as, Cambria, now I leave
Thy wild variety of dale and hill,
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 through this vale of tears forsaken rove,
And taste the sad vicissitudes 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 prayers to Heaven ascend,
And may we meet again as friend to friend.