Where happy birds may warble all unseen.
Sweet Ashley! well I love thy walks serene!
Thy gentle murmur, as thou glidest by,
Whispers to me of many a joyous scene;
O, when the past returns to memory,
By Carolina’s streams I’d lay me down and die.
XVI.
But why this yearning for the buried past?
And why, my heart, this anxious, gloomy fear?
If my domestic bliss could ever last,