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Awaken around me, ye shades of the dead, Dear guardians of infancy gladden my view!—Alas! in the cold grave, for ever is laid, All, all that was dear in the valley of Tow.
And this is the path-way along the burn-side, Where I wander'd with Ellen, sweet flow'r of the vale!Dear, innocent Ellen! my long promis'd bride, How cold is thy dwelling! thy beauty how pale!When the rising waves dash'd on the echoing shore, And over the surges the loud tempest blew,Didst thou listen with anguish and dread to the roar, And think upon William—far distant from Tow?
And when the white sail pass'd by Mousa's green isle, Didst thou hail, my blest Ellen! thy sailor's return?Did thy lovely face beam with a tear and a smile, As pensive you wander'd alone by the burn?Yes, day after day disappointment you bore, For never again did the bark meet your view,Nor the fair southern gale waft your love to the shore, Till you faded and died in the valley of Tow.
And I, my belov'd one, would seek thy cold grave, To share it, and join thee again in the sky;But honour forbids, that a son of the wave Should shrink like a coward when battle is nigh!And battle is near, and to-morrow we go— Ye scenes of delight, an eternal adieu!Soon, soon from this bosom the life-blood shall flow, And these dim eyes be clos'd—but far distant from Tow!
