Song.

'Not faster yonder rowers' might Flings from their oars the spray, Not faster yonder rippling bright, That tracks the shallop's course in light, Melts in the lake away, Than men from memory erase The benefits of former days;Then, stranger, go! good speed the while, Nor think again of the lonely isle.

'High place to thee in royal court, High place in battled line, Good hawk and hound for sylvan sport!

Where beauty sees the brave resort, The honored meed be shine!

True be thy sword, thy friend sincere, Thy lady constant, kind, and dear, And lost in love's and friendship's smile Be memory of the lonely isle!