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.