1

Since now the hour is come at last, 
   When you must quit your anxious lover; 
Since now, our dream of bliss is past, 
   One pang, my girl, and all is over. 


2

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. 


3

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; 


4

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, 


5

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; 


6

Whilst I, admiring, too remiss, 
   Forgot to scare the hovering flies, 
Yet envied every fly the kiss, 
   It dar'd to give your slumbering eyes: 


7

See still the little painted bark, 
   In which I row'd you o'er the lake; 
See there, high waving o'er the park, 
   The elm I clamber'd for your sake. 


8

These times are past, our joys are gone, 
   You leave me, leave this happy vale; 
These scenes, I must retrace alone; 
   Without thee, what will they avail? 


9

Who can conceive, who has not prov'd, 
   The anguish of a last embrace? 
When, torn from all you fondly lov'd, 
   You bid a long adieu to peace. 


10

This is the deepest of our woes, 
   For this these tears our cheeks bedew; 
This is of love the final close, 
   Oh, God! the fondest, last adieu!