Yet is it best that I should wander thus,
Far from the cherished spot where we have passed
Such happy days, since not again for us
Will be the joy that seemed too great to last.
Her father is too stern a man to know
Remorse's sting; his hatred will but grow.
Each year my wandering feet shall hither stray,
Each year my heart will feel the pang anew.
And this one thought alone will cheer my way,
That she, my Love, is faithful still, and true.
Her father may forbid our union,
But still our hearts together beat as one.
XXV.
Lonely I stand, and silent gaze upon
The fading shore, where dwells my soul's twin-soul.
'Midst my companions I am still alone,
Less near to them than her, though billows roll
Between us two. Fast fades the distant strand.
Farewell my Love! Farewell my native Land!
XXVI.
England! dear land of liberty and peace,
Great art thou now, and greater still wilt be,
If but thy truth and honesty increase
As each revolving decade renders thee
In population greater. Let the name
Of Christian England fix thy future fame.
The tale is told that when a foreign king
Would know what pow'r thy gracious Queen possessed,
That she could rule, with might unfaltering,
Her people, and by them be ever blessed;
She laid her hand upon a Bible near,
And, smiling, said: "That pow'r lies hidden here."
XXVIII.