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When summer clothes each hill and dell Of Ronaldsha, with verdant sweets;And Echo, from her sacred cell, The murmurs of the wave repeats;
As through our favourite haunts you stray, Will mem'ry waken in thy mind,And fancy by thy side pourtray, The friend whom thou hast left behind!
And when the merry Lammas Fair Shall bid each country belle and beauTo Kirkwall's crowded street repair, Their wond'rous finery to show;
There, while the lively dance you join, Or list to music's melting strain—Say, will one passing thought be mine Amid the gay and jocund train?
How oft, when wand'ring by the shore To catch the gentle ocean-breeze,In many a sigh my soul I pour To thee, across the murm'ring seas!
I think upon thy tender cares, Sophia, with a tearful smile;Pleasure and pain alternate shares The feelings of my breast the while.
