Dear native regions, [B] I foretell,
From what I feel at this farewell,
That, wheresoe'er my steps may [1] tend,
And whensoe'er my course shall end,
If in that hour a single tie [2] [5]
Survive of local sympathy,
My soul will cast the backward view,
The longing look alone on you.
Thus, while the Sun sinks down to rest
Far in the regions of the west, [10]
Though to the vale no parting beam
Be given, not one memorial gleam, [3]
A lingering light he fondly throws [4]
On the dear hills [5] where first he rose.
From what I feel at this farewell,
That, wheresoe'er my steps may [1] tend,
And whensoe'er my course shall end,
If in that hour a single tie [2] [5]
Survive of local sympathy,
My soul will cast the backward view,
The longing look alone on you.
Thus, while the Sun sinks down to rest
Far in the regions of the west, [10]
Though to the vale no parting beam
Be given, not one memorial gleam, [3]
A lingering light he fondly throws [4]
On the dear hills [5] where first he rose.