The bright waves glancing, beckon thee away,
And other lands are calling thee from home:
Receive in kindness now this simple lay,
Ere thou in far and foreign climes shall roam.

I bid thee go: my heart exults with thee,
That soon thy feet may press a distant shore:
Our mother-country, England, thou shalt see,
And view her smiling fields and ruins hoar.

On Alpine heights ere long perchance thou'lt stand,
And view with pleasure beauty's landscape wide;
May tread the storied haunts of classic land,
And float upon the Rhine's or Arno's tide.

But, wheresoe'er thou goest, may the Power
Which bids the orbs of heaven in order move
Protect and guide and bless thee every hour,
Till thou shalt cease afar from home to rove!

May Peace her white wings fold upon thy heart,
As o'er the billowy deep thy bark shall glide;
And all with whom thou, sorrowing, must part,
Be spared to greet thee on the homeward side!

In rich communion with the wise afar,
Mayst thou full many a happy season spend,
While the fair lustre of thy natal star
Shall with their radiance ever calmly blend!

Farewell! our paths on earth may seldom meet;
Our orbits ne'er again may cross below;
But I shall e'er thy name with pleasure greet,
And ask that laurel-wreaths thy path may strew.

But, better far, Maria, may thy name
Be written fair upon the heavenly scroll,
That thus thou mayst possess eternal fame,
And reach at last ambition's highest goal!

There may we meet; there may I tell to thee
What these few lines but feebly may impart,
That, while my youth shall dwell in memory,
I will remember thee with grateful heart!

Farewell, once more! health's angel thee attend,
And with its wings full often fan thy brow;
And every soul that greets thee prove a friend,
Till thou shalt meet the friends thou leavest now.