Behold the hour the boat arrive!
Thou goest, thou darling of my heart:
Ah! sever'd from thee, can I survive?
But fate has will'd, and we must part!
I'll often greet this surging swell;
Yon distant isle will often hail;
"E'en here, I took the last farewel;
"There, latest mark'd her vanish'd sail".

Along the solitary shore,
While flitting sea-fowls round me cry,
Across the rolling, dashing roar,
I'Il westward turn my wistful eye:
Happy, thou Indian grove, I'Il say,
Where now my Nancy's path may be!
While through thy sweets she loves to stray,
O tell me, does she muse on me!