Page:Poetical Remains.pdf/299

And robed in one dark solemn hue,
Arose the distant shore to view.
Then, starting from his trance of woe,
Tears, long-suppressed, in freedom flow,
While thus his wild and plaintive strain,
Blends with the murmur of the main.

THE BARD'S FAREWELL.

Thou setting moon! when next thy rays,
    Are trembling on the shadowy deep,
The land, now fading from my gaze
    These eyes in vain shall weep;
And wander o'er the lonely sea,
And fix their tearful glance on thee,
On thee! whose light so softly gleams,

Thro' the green oaks that fringe my native streams.

But 'midst those ancient groves no more
    Shall I thy quivering lustre hail,