Poems (Campbell)/The Farewell
For works with similar titles, see Farewell.
THE FAREWELL.
On! dear native country, where first I drew breath, Dear Hall, which belong'd to my grandsires of yore,Dear shade, where I've vow'd to be constant till death To the maid of the cottage that stands on the moor;
Dear objects, adieu! I must leave you awhile, And wander away to some far distant shore,Yet I'll think of each look, and I'll cherish each smile, Of the maid of the cottage that stands on the moor.
Though orange groves breathe a rich gale of perfume, And a fragrance unknown to our cold Northern shore,Yet I'll sigh for our woodlands, and forests' deep gloom, And the maid of the cottage that stands on the moor.
Adieu to our woodlands, our forests, adieu! Yet still my fond bosom their loss shall deplore;And my heart, unestrang'd, shall for ever be true To the maid of the cottage that stands on the moor.
For what though I'm forc'd, oh! my Laura, to roam From thee far away, and my dear native shore,Love shines like a star, and shall soon guide me home To the maid of the cottage that stands on the moor.
Then, happy indeed! in my own native land I'll fix my abode, and will wander no more;Bless'd with more than a crown, in the heart and the hand Of the maid of the cottage that stands on the moor.