When from his gaze our shores receding
In night and distance drift away,
And, every present joy unheeding,
He turns to muse, and grieve, and pray,
How will regret and memory, meeting,
This brilliant scene bring back to view,
And hear once more your ardent greeting,
And sigh once more his fond adieu!

And we, by sadness made more tender,
As here we knit our broken chain, —
How gladly will affection render
Our gentle tribute once again!
How sweet 'twill be, though joys are thwarted,
And smiles rebuked by sorrow's sigh,
To think, however friends are parted,
At least that friendship cannot die!

His eyes will look on English meadows
Where scarlet poppies smile and dream;
And he will muse where wandering shadows
Drift over Avon's sacred stream;
And, mind and soul in bondage taken,
Will roam those temples strange and vast,
Where every pensive step will waken
The glorious memories of the past.

But we shall hear, in grief beclouded,
Poor Harebell mourn his ruined home;
And see, in night and tempest shrouded,
Grim Cassius pace the stones of Rome;
With grizzled Yorick, frenzy-ridden,
From passion's fevered dream awake;
And feel, with tears that flow unbidden,
The royal heart of Scotland break.

O, Art divine, supreme, undying, —
Not time nor space can e'er subdue!
The seas roll on, — the years are flying, —
Man passes, — thou alone art true!
No cloud can dim their deathless lustre
Whose names thy angel hands enroll,
Nor blight the shining shapes that cluster
In thy pantheon of the soul!

Yet, many a cherished tie is broken,
Across that darkening waste of sea! —
They make no sign, they send no token,
They come not back to love and me.
I know where, deaf to blames and praises,
In youth and beauty cold and dead,
Rests now beneath old England's daisies
Her tenderest heart, her loveliest head.

And him we cast the roses after,
Whose cynic smile was humor's kiss,
Whose magic turned the world to laughter, —
Where dwells he, in an hour like this?
Ah, let us think, though gone before us, —
The vanished friends of days no more, —
They watch with fond affection o'er us,
And bless us from their heavenly shore.

I see the radiant phantoms thronging,
To clasp him in their guardian thrall!
I bless him, by each noble longing
That e'er his gentle lips let fall!
By all high thought and pure devotion,
By towering pine and nestling rose!
Farewell, farewell! on land or ocean —
God bless him, wheresoe'er he goes!