University of Virginia Library


135

FAREWELL TO THE VALLEY.

WRITTEN IN PROSPECT OF IMMEDIATE DEPARTURE.

Scenes of my childhood, loved and dear!
Incentives fond of memory!
Sweet in the greenly budding year,
Joyous in vernal melody!
Fate, iron-hearted, bids me fly;
Who at his mandate may rebel?
With swelling heart and tearful eye
I pause to take a sad farewell.
Your floods, Connecticut, adieu!
Your torrent's solemn, ceaseless roar.
What blissful moments I review
Along your winding, woody shore!
How oft beneath umbrageous elm,
There wandering, I have paused to rest,
And seen the verge of fairy realm
Mirrored within thy trembling breast!
Farewell, sweet ever-flowing brook,
From winter's frigid fetters clear;
I give thee now a parting look,
I lend a tributary tear.

136

The years to me that careful grow,
Thy careless murmurs still prolong;
Could he that muses o'er thy flow,
Awake with thee undying song!
Farewell dear hamlet of my own,
Endeared by every tender tie;
Oft shalt thou give to memory tone
When weary leagues between us lie!
Farewell the social hearth where Love,
A heaven-commissioned angel came,—
Strong as the faith can mountains move,
Warm as the crepitating flame.
With heart-felt grief, farewell my friends!
Oft such we hailed; as such we part;
If parting to life's verge extends,
Till then my hand—yea, more, my heart;
Farewell my foes, if such there be,
For I myself am foe to none;
If any would have injured me,
They 've failed in what they would have done.
Sweet valley of my birth, adieu!
The cradle of my rustic muse;
And shall a bard departing now,
The tribute of a lay refuse?
As soon might Phœbus yield to night
When glowing high at Summer's noon!

137

As soon his brilliant blaze of light
Eclipse the pale-faced midnight moon!
These weary feet of mine have strayed
Before from thee a mighty way;
With Fortune's flying foot-ball played—
Myself in stranger lands astray.
I wist not whither I was led,
My life as changeful as a dream;
Now blanket-clad and venison-fed,
My drink the Indian-haunted stream.
Anon my home a crowded street,
Tamed to a city's dust and noise,
Where soul is lost in vain conceit,
And pride the nobler man destroys.
And if thy wandering son has seen
Sights which might gladden one to see,
Or brighter climes attractive been,
Fain would he dwell, dear vale, in thee.
Give to the son of nature wild
The romance of the mighty West;
Give to the fop—the name of child;
Give sumptuous viands to the guest;
Give to the brave, adventurous tar
The boisterous music of the sea;
But shine for once, propitious star,
And give my valley-home to me!

138

Scenes of my childhood, loved and dear!
Fast imaged on my memory!
All sweetly glimmering thro' a tear,
Enchanting now with melody;
Fate, with harsh mandate, bids me fly;
With stern resolve I nerve my mind;
There is a Power that casts the die,
And to that power I'm resigned.
 

Matthew xxi chapter, 21 verse.