The Adieu. Written from Beacon Hill

The ORB OF DAY, retiring in the West, O'erspreads with fluid gold the blushing skies; CREATION seems to follow on for rest— To greet new life when SOL again shall rise. But stay, O Planet of Celestial light— Let me one moment more be blest by you, E're you resign to silver'd LUNA, night— To sketch this lanscape, and bid all adieu! For ah, thou cheering and unerring ray, Ere LUNA hovers o'er the vast domain, Far from this spot I exit with thy day, Quit my loved Boston, distant climes to gain. E'en now, methinks, I see thy parting tear, Rolling luxurious, thro the high arch'd dome; And from between yon hill thy smile so dear, Calms the rude breeze and gilds the sea's fierce foam. Slow-winding CHARLES in gentle murmurs glide, Around, each village, autumn's beauties view! Luxurious commerce on yon eastern tide, Brings back the riches enterprise had due. Boston majestic rises up between, The seat of science and undying fame; Where love inspires with joy each varied scene— Where first I felt the power of Cupid's flame! Adieu!—Sol's quiv'ring faintly ray no more, Plays on the systems which my eye can trace, Already Night in darkness cloaks each shore, Each Star bright twinkling in its pearly grace. But lo! a Goddess from the East appears, And in her train each milder charm await, Spread their pure light, and drop their dewy tears, As tho' they come to see and balm my fate. I greet thee, Goddess of the love-plaint hour, I greet thee, witness with yon village dale, When with Eliza in the roseat bower I told my passion—she approv'd my tale. Thou, LUNA, then was witness to my truth— And oft, alas! since then have call'd on you: My woe hath robb'd me of the joys of youth— My spirits linger—still my heart is true. Since dear Eliza broke the vow she made, So solemn—calling on each throne above, To witness vows so sacred from a maid, "None, none but thee, I cannot, will not love!" Dearest ELIZA! tell me why this change, Why leave me thus to mourn without a cause! Have I o'erbounded virtue's chastest range! Have I infring'd love's purest sacred law! No!—I have not—but thou, Eliza, hast! Thou, and alone have broken every tie; Ye Gods! too true, Eliza once so chaste, Has broke those vows which once could never die! O Poverty! thou cause of this my grief— Thy cruel hand my bliss and hope's undone! Riches! I must invoke thy quick relief, Ah! would I could fit and claim her as my own. Curst Pride! thou nurse of many a human ill— To thee, because I'm poor, Eliza flies Far from my sight—and drinks of thy proud rill— Nor thinks that thus her wretched lover dies! * * * * * But stop!—The parting hour is near at hand Time points his finger to the full-flowed tide; The western breeze bounds swiftly o'er the land, And soon, full soon, the rolling waves I ride. Farewell Eliza! my friends, around, adieu! Should Fortune bless me quick I shall return; And from this seat the beauteous prospects view— Blest with Eliza, whom I now must mourn.