The Pamphlet Collection of Sir Robert Stout: Volume 87
Thou Ling'ring Star
Thou Ling'ring Star.
That sacred hour can I forget,
Can I forget the hallow'd grove,
Where by the winding Ayr we met,
To live one day of parting love.
Eternity cannot efface
Those records dear of transports past,
The image of our last embrace;—
Ah! little thought we 'twas our last.
Ayr, gurgling, kiss'd his pebbl'd shore,
O'erhung with wild woods thick'ning green,
The fragrant birch and hawthorn hoar,
Twin'd amrous round the raptur'd scene:
The flowers sprang wanton to be prest,
The birds sang love on ev'ry spray,
Till too, too soon the glowing west,
Proclaim'd the speed of winged day.
Still o'er these scenes my mem'ry wakes,
And fondly broods with miser care;
Time but th'impression stronger makes,
As streams their channels deeper wear.
My Mary! dear departed shade!
Where is thy place of blissful rest?
See'st thou thy lover lowly laid?
Hear'st thou the groans that rend his breast?