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TO ELIZA MATILDA.
Adieu to the scenes where the fairies have rov'd, Where the narrow burn rush'd down the moss-cover'd hill;Adieu to the haunts where so lately we lov'd By twilight, or moonlight, to wander at will!Matilda! those pleasures for ever have fled, No time shall restore them again to our sight;No more on the banks of the smooth-flowing rillWe shall sit, while the ev'ning around us is still, And gaze on her planet so bright.
On the lap of affection indulgently laid, And nurs'd on the bosom of love,We knew not, we thought not, how soon they might fade, Or how far from our haunts they would rove;For like dreams of romance that will gladden the soul, Or like some soothing vision of rapture and bliss,Around us awhile the enchantment was wove,Nor dream'd we, Matilda! how soon we might prove All the sorrows of care and distress.
Oh! how blest and how happy, unmindful of wealth, The world, and its woes, and its pleasures forgot,We could dwell, the meek children of virtue and health, Contentment our fortune, our dwelling—a cot!
