1   Since now the hour is come at last,      When you must quit your anxious lover;   Since now our dream of bliss is past,      One pang, my girl, and all is over. 2   Alas! that pang will be severe,      Which bids us part to meet no more;   Which tears me far from one so dear,      Departing for a distant shore. 3   Well! we have pass’d some happy hours,      And joy will mingle with our tears;   When thinking on these ancient towers,      We shelter of our infant years; 4   Where from this Gothic casement’s height,      We view’s the lake, the park, the dell,   And still, though tears obstruct our sight,      We lingering look a last farewell, 5   O’er fields through which we used to run,      And spend the hours in childish play;   O’er shades where, when our race was done,      Reposing on my breast you lay; 6   Whilst I, admiring, too remiss,      Forgot to scare the hovering flies,   Yet envied every fly the kiss      It dared to give your slumbering eyes: 7   See still the little painted bark,      In which I row’d you o’er the lake;   See there, high waving o’er the park,      The elm I clamber’d for your sake. 8   These times are past—our joys are gone,      You leave me, leave this happy vale;   These scenes I must retrace alone:      Without thee what will they avail? 9   Who can conceive, who has not proved,      The anguish of a last embrace?   When, torn from all you fondly loved,      You bid a long adieu to peace. 10   This is the deepest of our woes,      For this these tears our cheeks bedew;   This is of love the final close,      Oh, God! the fondest, last adieu!