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The Poetical Works of Thomas Moore

Collected by Himself. In Ten Volumes
  

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159

IMPROMPTU, ON LEAVING SOME FRIENDS.

O dulces comitum valete cœtus! Catullus.

No, never shall my soul forget
The friends I found so cordial-hearted;
Dear shall be the day we met,
And dear shall be the night we parted.
If fond regrets, however sweet,
Must with the lapse of time decay,
Yet still, when thus in mirth you meet,
Fill high to him that's far away!
Long be the light of memory found
Alive within your social glass;
Let that be still the magic round,
O'er which Oblivion dares not pass.