Poems (Pizey)/On the Departure of a Friend
ON THEDEPARTURE OF A FRIEND.
Farewell, my friend, old Time with niggard handHas number'd out the days I've spent with thee,And with insatiate scythe sever'd the threadWhich lately bound them to futurity:But still there s a cord too firmly twin'dEven to yield to him, till that dread hourWhen all his power shall cease and be extinct;For in the cutting this firm tie asunder,His weapon of destruction Time shall snap. I pray thee think of me where'er thou art,Whether in palace, cottage, or retreat,Sacred to science, or to friends like thee;Yet let not others occupy that placeWhich I so long have held within thy heart,And consecrated by our mutual vowTo unfading, never-ending friendship.My thoughts, my friend, will oft be fixed on thee,While mem'ry shall trace back scenes of pleasureWhich I of late so much enjoy'd with thee,And Fancy's mirror shall reflect thy form.Thus shall imagination's fairy pow'rPresent thine image faithfully to view,Though thou art now so distant from thy friend,And snatch Time's mantle of oblivionEre he has pow'r to hide dear Memory,Or bind her quick and penetrating eyeWith chilling bandage of forgetfulness.Yes, my dear friend, old Time is on the wing,And beckons thee to distant lands away;But the remembrance of thee still remains, For ever safe from his destroying hand,'Twill prove a solace while thou'rt far remov'd,And be the greatest treasure of my heart,Which ne'er shall swerve in love and truth to thee.Farewell, and cease not to remember me.