Think not I'll leave fair Clwyd's vale;
To me 'tis fondly dear!
For still its scenes those hours recall
When I was blest and Henry here.

Long, long, to part our willing hands
An angry father strove;
While sorrow press'd on Henry's health,
A sorrow nurs'd by hopeless love.

His1 Ellen's cheek was also pale,
But Hope my spirits cheer'd;
Methought beneath a father's frown,
A father's pard'ning smile appear'd.

Nor was the idea vain:
How sad thou art, he cried;
But smile again, my darling child;
For thou shalt be thy Henry's bride.

At that glad sound, on wings of love,
To Henry's cot I flew:
But, ah! The transient flush of joy
From his wan cheek too soon withdrew.

'Twas doubtful bliss, 'twas sure alarm;
I only smil'd through tears:
But soon we hailed the bridal day,
And Love's fond hopes o'ercame its fears.

Ah! Hopes too false; ah! Fears too true,
Nor love nor joy could save:
I can no more, - but mark you turf
With flow'rs o'erspread, - 'tis Henry's grave!