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Where Albion's gleaming cliffs are floating high,
Like snowy clouds against her pale blue sky,
Thou there may'st find a gentle friend, like me,
To love, to tend, to guard and cherish thee;
Soft, tender, true, affectionate, and kind,
As the pure thoughts of thy own heart and mind.
Thou goest forth with golden hopes, that gleam
Like flashing sunshine on the morning stream—
May those bright hopes ne'er melt away in tears,
But glow and brighten through the coming years.
Whether thou ling'rest where Italian skies
Shine ever with their glorious Eden-dyes,
Where the deep soul of love all wildly gleams
In the mild lustre of the moon's sweet beams,
And where bright lakes in their untroubled rest,
Smile like young dimples upon Nature's breast,
Or where the mountains of old Switzerland
Tower with their glaciers, stern, and wild, and grand;
Or 'mid sweet Erin's emerald vales and bowers,
Or in gay France to "chase the glowing hours"
With merry jest, and laugh, and song, and dance,
Forgetful of dark time and dreary chance;