Behold the Hour, the Boat Arrive
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- Behold the hour, the boat arrive;
- Thou goest, the darling of my heart;
- Sever'd from thee, can I survive,
- But Fate has will'd and we must part.
- I'll often greet the surging swell,
- Yon distant Isle will often hail:
- "E'en here I took the last farewell;
- There, latest mark'd her vanish'd sail."
- Along the solitary shore,
- While flitting sea-fowl round me cry,
- Across the rolling, dashing roar,
- I'll westward turn my wistful eye:
- "Happy thou Indian grove," I'll say,
- "Where now my Nancy's path may be!
- While thro' thy sweets she loves to stray,
- O tell me, does she muse on me!"