Breathed the swan-music of her wild farewell

O’er dancing waves:—“Oh, linger yet!” she cried,

“Oh, linger, linger on the oar!

Oh, pause upon the deep!

That I may gaze yet once, once more,

Where floats the golden day o’er fane and steep!

Never so brightly smiled mine own sweet shore—

Oh! linger, linger on the parting oar!

“I see the laurels fling back showers

Of soft light still on many a shrine;