Far in the glen, whence yonder light
Scarce pierces through the gloaming,
I've linger'd oft till fall of night,
Around the cot-house roaming:
Or listen'd, while the frequent breeze
Wafted the song of Nancy;
While on the pool, or through the trees,
The moon-beam sooth'd my fancy.

'Twas here, beneath this blooming thorn,
I vow'd I'd never leave her;
A wretch ne'er saw the light of morn
So base that could deceive her.
O Love! blest be thine artless power,
That did my thoughts discover;
And ever blessed be the hour
She own'd me for her lover!

Yes, round this thorn, the twining rose
In native bloom shall flourish;
And, ever while it buds and blows,
'Twill sweet remembrance nourish.
Each blissful scene, when here we meet
Be memory's fond treasure;
And oft I'll seek this happy seat,
And ponder on past pleasure.