We hung our harps upon the willows.
"—
Captive Israel.
Farewell, enchanting goddess,
Whose smile all nature cheers,
And pours the light of heaven
Around sublunar years.
Adieu, thou seraph beauty;
With blushing roses crown'd,
Thy breath no more inspires me,
Thy flowers no more surround,
No more, with thee conversing,
I spend the joyous day,
While hours of laughing pleasure,
Unheeded dance away.
Thy fields, by spring enamell'd,
These feet no more can tread,
Nor in poetic rambles,
To whisp'ring rills be led.
Long on the leafless willow,
My tuneless harp has hung,
The themes are all forgotten,
On which its numbers rung.
Ye groves, with music sounding,
Ye vales, in smiling bloom,
Ye deep and waving forests,
The seats of pleasing gloom;
Ye lov'd and honor'd circles,
Where peace and friendship dwell—
To all these scenes of pleasure,
How can I say—FAREWELL?