170
We think of thee, we think of thee,
In lighted halls, at social evening-tide,
When thou of those fair circles wert the pride;
As summer lightning, playing 'mid the clouds,
Thy wit illumined Fashion's dullest crowds.
And now, farewell,—alas, farewell!
We think of thee, we think of thee,
Bright monarch, in thy spirit's regal mood,
When round thy throne Thought rolled its sparkling flood,
Gay with Imagination's sunny beam,
Or darklier touched by Sadness' moonlight gleam.
Farewell, oh, mournfully farewell!
We think of thee, we think of thee,
Sweet Ladye, in dear Friendship's genial hours,
When, like refreshing dew, that gems the lovely flowers,
Thy kindness gave new grace to every deed and word,
Calling fresh fragrance from each treasured hoard.
Farewell to thee,—alas, farewell!
We think of thee, we think of thee;
Thy brow the minstrel's crown might well adorn,
Tho' oft for woman’s heart it bears a thorn;
So to thy sight while fairest prospects glowed,
Wert thou not doomed to tread a painful road?
Farewell, now gently fare thee well!
We think of thee, we think of thee,
When Hope's white flag, a flatterer, to beguile,
Waved o'er the bark that bore from us thy smile;
Thine, who then veiled thy glowing light of fame
In the soft shade of trusting woman's claim.
Farewell, oh, mournfully farewell!
