Джон Лэнгхорн (John Langhorne)

A Farewell to the Valley of Irwan

FAREWELL the fields of Irwan’s vale,
  My infant years where Fancy led,
And soothed me with the western gale,
  Her wild dreams waving round my head,
While the blithe blackbird told his tale.
Farewell the fields of Irwan’s vale!

The primrose on the valley’s side,
  The green thyme on the mountain’s head,
The wanton rose, the daisy pied,
  The wilding’s blossom blushing red;
No longer I their sweets inhale.
Farewell the fields of Irwan’s vale!

How oft, within you vacant shade,
  Has evening closed my careless eye!
How oft along those banks I ’ve strayed,
  And watched the wave that wandered by;
Full long their loss shall I bewail.
Farewell the fields of Irwan’s vale!	

Yet still, within yon vacant grove,
  To mark the close of parting day,
Along yon flowery banks to rove,
  And watch the wave that winds away,
Fair Fancy sure shall never fail,
Though far from these and Irwan’s vale.

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