A PARTING SONG. "Oh! mes Amis, rappelez vous quelquefois mes vers; mon ame y est empreinte." - Corinne WHEN will ye think of me, my friends? When the last red light, the farewell of day, When will ye think of me, kind friends! When the rose of the rich midsummer time Then let it be! When will ye think of me, sweet friends? When the sudden tears o'erflow your eye When ye hear the voice of a mountain stream, Thus let my memory be with you, friends! WE RETURN NO MORE. Kindly and gently, but as of one For whom 'tis well to be fled and gone- 207 WE RETURN NO MORE!' "When I stood beneath the fresh green tree, I turn'd from all she brought to all she could not bring." "WE return!-we return!-we return no more!" So comes the song to the mountain-shore, For those that are leaving their Highland home "We return no more!" and through cave and dell Mournfully wanders that wild farewell. "We return!—we return!- we return no more!" 1 Ha til!-ha til!—ha til mi tulidle!" we return!-we return!—we return no more!"-the burden of the Highland song of emigration. "We return!-we return!-we return no more!" No! it is not the rose that returns no more; Nor the frail flush'd leaves which the wild wind strews. We return!-we return!-we return no more!" Doth the bird sing thus from a brighter shore? Those wings that follow the southern breeze, Float they not homeward o'er vernal seas? Yes! from the lands of the vine and palm They come, with the sunshine, when waves grow calm. "But we!-we return!-we return no more!" The faith in affection-deep, fond, yet vain- TO A WANDERING FEMALE SINGER. 209 TO A WANDERING FEMALE SINGER. THOU hast loved and thou hast suffer'd! Thou hast trembled like a harp's frail string- Thou hast loved-it may be vainly – But well-oh! but too well Thou hast suffer'd all that woman's breast Thou hast wept and thou hast parted, Thou hast been forsaken long, Thou hast watch'd for steps that came not backI know it by thy song! By the low clear silvery gushing Of its music from thy breast, By the quivering of its flute-like swell A sound of the heart's unrest. By its fond and plaintive lingering, Oh! thou hast loved and suffer'd much- 18* THE PALMER. "The faded palm branch in his hand, SCOTT. ART thou come from the far-off land at last? Thou that hast wander'd long! Thou art come to a home whence the smile hath pass'd With the merry voice of song. For the sunny glance and the bounding heart Thou wilt seek-but all are gone; They are parted e'en as waters part, To meet in the deep alone! And thou-from thy lip is fled the glow, And the shades of thought o'erhang thy brow, Say what hast thou brought from the distant shore For thy wasted youth to pay? Hast thou treasure to win thee joys once more? Hast thou vassals to smooth thy way? "I have brought but the palm-branch in my hand, Yet I call not my bright youth lost! I have won but high thought in the Holy Land, Yet I count not too dear the cost! |