Behold The Hour, The Boat Arrive

     Behold the hour, the boat arrive;
     Thou goest, the darling of my heart;
     Sever'd from thee, can I survive,
     But Fate has will'd and we must part.
     I'll often greet the surging swell,
     Yon distant Isle will often hail:
     "E'en here I took the last farewell;
     There, latest mark'd her vanish'd sail."
     Along the solitary shore,
     While flitting sea-fowl round me cry,
     Across the rolling, dashing roar,
     I'll westward turn my wistful eye:
     "Happy thou Indian grove," I'll say,
     "Where now my Nancy's path may be!
     While thro' thy sweets she loves to stray,
     O tell me, does she muse on me!"