Page:Jovial sons of Jove (1).pdf/8

Rh I ha’e play’d to ladies fair and gay, In mony a southron hall ; But there was one, far, far away, A world above them all. And now, tho’ weary years have fled, I think wi’ mournfu’ joy, Upon the time when Mary wed Her Highland minstrel boy.

Go, youth belov’d, to distant glades, New friends, new hopes, new joys to find; Yet sometimes deign ’midst fairer maids, To think on her thou leav’st behind, Thy love, thy fate, dear youth, to share, Must never be my happy lot; But thou may’st grant this humble prayer— Forget me not! forget me not!

Yet should the thought of my distress Too painful to thy feelings be, Heed not the wish I now express, Nor over deign to think on me. But, oh, if grief thy steps attend, If want, if sickness be thy lot, And thou require a soothing friend, Forget me not! forget me not!