Farewell! thou has fled in thy primal hour,
In thy sweetness of youthful blossom
E'er sin could sully thy maiden flower,
Or profane thy guileless bosom
And freshly the myrtle boughs shall wave
Above thy form and around thy grave-
And willow branches bend in air,
For affection'd hands shall plant them there.
Farewell! no longer to give thy way,
Shall the light of love be blowing,
As late it flowed like the star of day,
When the stream of life was flowing;
The noontide splendour, the starlit scene,
The summer buds and the autumn's sheen
Shall still pass on, and still return,
But wake not thee from thy tranquil urn.
But when the zephyrs of eve shall kiss
The fleecy clouds of heaven,-
When the stars shall smile in the fields of bliss
O'er the deep blue vault of even,
Then fancy shall soar on the wings of love,
And picture thee in the realms above,
A spirit of that immortal shore,
Where pain can wing thee never more!
Florio. New York April 26,th 1822.