Ah, then, how I joy'd while I gazed on her charms!
What transports flew swift through my heart!
I press'd the dear, beautiful maid in my arms,
Nor dream'd that we ever should part.
But now from the dear, from the tenderest maid,
By fortune unfeelingly torn;
'Midst strangers, who wonder to see me so sad,
In secret I wander forlorn.
And oft, while drear Midnight assembles her shades,
And Silence pours sleep from her throne,
Pale, lonely, and pensive, I steal through the glades,
And sigh, 'midst the darkness, my moan.
In vain to the town I retreat for relief,
In vain to the groves I complain;
Belles, coxcombs, and uproar, can ne'er soothe my grief,
And solitude nurses my pain.
Still absent from her whom my bosom loves best,
I languish in mis'ry and care;
Her presence could banish each woe from my heart,
But her absence, alas! is despair.
Ye dark rugged rocks, that recline o'er the deep;
Ye breezes, that sigh o'er the main—
Oh, shelter me under your cliffs while I weep,
And cease while ye hear me complain!
Far distant, alas! from my dear native shore,
And far from each friend now I be;
And wide is the merciless ocean that roars
Between my Matilda and me.
AUCHTERTOOL.[43]
From the village of Leslie, with a heart full of glee,
And my pack on my shoulders, I rambled out free,
Resolved that same evening, as Luna was full,
To lodge, ten miles distant, in old Auchtertool.