Poem by Robert Anderson

Farewell To Gilsland

Adieu, ye dun heaths, purple vales, and wild flowers,
Ye banks whose proud steeps in green verdure are drest;
Ye walks, and ye woodlands, ye glades, and cool bowers,
In whose retir'd shades oft the wearied find rest.
To the town and its follies, fate calls me away;
But reluctant and sad I the summons obey.

Adieu, ye grey crags, and thou hoarse--murm'ring river,
Whose sounds, heard afar, lull the mind to repose;
Near thee could I dwell in retirement, and ever
On thy wood--fring'd windings forget all my woes:
There, free from temptation, unknown would I live,
And taste the delights only virtue can give.

And thou source of health, whose clear waters still flowing,
Faint tppe of His bounty who governs this ball;
New vigour, new life, to the wretched bestowing,
Long may thy blue streams pour their healing to all;
And thy rock be the seat of contentment and mirth,
While peace, love, and virtue are cherish'd on earth. 

1. Epitaph on Maria of the Cottage
2. Feckless Wully
3. Song 1. A Lassie and a Gill
4. Epistle the First
5. The Happy Family

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