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WRITTEN IN AN ALBUM.
Some name arrests the passer-by;
May mine attract thy pensive eye!
Perchance in some succeeding year,
September 14th, 1809.
Oh Lady! when I left the shore,
The distant shore, which gave me birth, I hardly thought to grieve once more,
To quit another spot on earth: Yet here, amidst this barren isle,
Where panting Nature droops the head, Where only thou art seen to smile,
I view my parting hour with dread. Though far from Albin's craggy shore,
Divided by the dark-blue main; A few, brief, rolling seasons o'er,
Perchance I view her cliffs again: But wheresoe'er I now may roam,
Through scorching clime, and varied sea, Though Time restore ine to my home,
I ne'er shall bend mine eyes on thee: On thee, in whom at once conspire
All charms which heedless hearts can move, Whom but to see is. to admire,
And, oh! forgive the word- to love. Forgive the word, in one who ne'er
With such a word can more offend; And since thy heart I cannot share,
Believe me, what I am, thy friend. And who so cold as look on thee,
Thou lovely wand'rer, and be less? Nor be, what man should ever be,
The friend of Beauty in distress?