The Huron Chief, and Other Poems

by Adam Kidd


 

TO MARY,

ON HER RETURNING TO HER NATIVE COUNTRY, AFTER AN ABSENCE OF FIVE YEARS.


 

Go, fair one—go, and may each gale
    Propitious guide thee o’er the wave—
May gentle breezes swell the sail,
    And Heaven prove kind my love to save.

Go, fair one—go to that loved Isle,
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    Where friendship hails thy glad return—
Where joy the purest loves to smile,
    And beauty’s torches brightest burn. [Page 197]

And when along the green-clad shore,
    At evening’s close you oft may stray,
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Ah! tell me, shall e’en one thought more
    Be turned to him who’s far away?

Shall memory point to each blest hour
    So sweetly spent, untinged with care,
When oft we sought the hawthorn bower,
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    To sigh love forth and ramble there?

Then high raised rapture filled the eye,
    And melting fondness filled the heart—
Nor dreamed we that an hour was nigh,
    To wrench our mutual souls apart.
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But that cursed hour too quickly came,
    And robbed me of my purest bliss—
Nor left me aught, except the name
    Of life, to feel the pang of this. [Page 198]

Then, fare thee well—no more we’ll meet
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    By whinny brae, or heath-clad hill—
No more thy gentle converse sweet,
    Can cheer this heart with rapture’s thrill.

Yet, all the influence time may lend,
    Can’t break love’s fondest, earliest twine,
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Nor chill that heart—till life shall end—
    Which still, dear MARY! still is thine.
[Page 199]