For me, whate'er my span of years,
Whatever sun may light my roving;
Whether I waste my life in tears,
Or live, as now, for mirth and loving;
This day shall come with aspect kind,
Wherever fate may cast your rover;
He'll think of those he left behind,
And drink a health to bliss that's over!
Then come, my friends, etc.
SONG.[1]
Mary, I believed thee true,
And I was blest in thus believing
But now I mourn that e'er I knew
A girl so fair and so deceiving.
Fare thee well.
Few have ever loved like me,—
Yes, I have loved thee too sincerely!
And few have e'er deceived like thee.—
Alas! deceived me too severely.
Fare thee well!—yet think awhile
On one whose bosom bleeds to doubt thee:
Who now would rather trust that smile,
And die with thee than live without thee.
Fare thee well! I'll think of thee.
Thou leavest me many a bitter token;
For see, distracting woman, see,
My peace is gone, my heart is broken!—
Fare thee well!
[1] These words were written to the pathetic Scotch air "Galla Water."