THE
FAREWELL
TO
AFFECTION
.
GO
,
soft
Sensation
,
once
so
dear
,
So
long
the
much-lov'd
ruler
here
;
Go
,
go
,
and
leave
this
bosom
free
,
And
take
thy
many
a
pang
with
thee
;
Thy
fears
,
that
die
of
dreaded
ill
;
Thy
softer
griefs
that
slowly
kill
;
Thy
anguish
for
another's
woe
;
Thy
mingling
tears
,
that
silent
flow
;
Thy
sighs
,
that
linger
oft
on
air
,
And
melt
the
softest
zephyr
there
;
Thy
little
jealousies
,
that
prove
Thy
pride
of
heart
,
but
most
thy
love
;
That
tenderness
of
soul
,
which
knows
An
endless
world
of
fancied
woes
;
A
thousand
slights
,
a
thousand
pains
,
That
pierce
at
once
the
bleeding
veins
;
The
feelings
quick
,
that
faint
and
start
,
And
haste
their
tremour
to
the
heart
;
With
all
the
nameless
fears
that
mourn
A
love
bestow'd
without
return
!
Go
,
go
;
Indifference
shall
be
mine
,
That
owns
another
soul
than
thine
;
A
cool
composure
gilds
her
day
,
And
smoothly
wafts
her
hour
away
;
No
fancied
ills
her
joys
molest
,
In
peaceful
shade
her
feelings
rest
:
There
her
own
poppy
breathes
around
,
There
blooms
the
rose
that
cannot
wound
.
No
thorn
that
sheds
the
dewy
tear
,
Or
plant
of
feeling
wanders
near
;
Or
blossom
with
her
purple
vein
,
Or
little
fibre
knowing
pain
;
For
there
soft
Slumber
chose
her
bower
,
And
woo'd
her
soporific
flower
,
Which
gently
lulls
the
power
of
sleep
,
Or
cools
the
eye
of
those
that
weep
;
O'er
all
the
senses
sheds
a
charm
,
And
locks
the
mind
from
dread
of
harm
:
Be
thou
my
guest
,
Indifference
fair
,
Of
blooming
cheek
,
and
tranquil
air
;
Of
mien
unalter'd
,
look
the
same
,
Careless
alike
of
praise
or
blame
;
—
Thou
who
no
change
of
season
knows
,
No
sudden
gust
of
wintry
woes
,
No
blast
that
rends
the
bosom's
flower
,
No
cloud
that
streams
in
endless
shower
.
Thy
blissful
poppy
still
retains
The
balsam-juice
in
all
her
veins
;
In
all
her
veins
the
essence
flows
That
bends
the
eyelids
to
their
close
;
And
though
her
fringed
head
should
droop
,
As
if
from
grief
she'd
caught
the
stoop
,
Still
into
Morpheus'
cup
she'll
pour
The
drop
of
many
a
precious
shower
.
Yet
stay
,
Affection
;
e'er
we
part
,
For
thou
hast
long
liv'd
in
my
heart
,
Let
me
relate
how
oft
I've
found
In
thy
soft
voice
the
softest
sound
,
As
if
sweet
Harmony
drew
near
And
pour'd
her
soul
into
my
ear
.
Persuasion
came
,
with
tuneful
chords
,
And
drew
a
tone
from
weakest
words
;
E'en
weakest
words
her
notes
can
prove
,
When
wrapt
in
music
sweetly
move
In
concert
with
her
smile
or
sigh
,
Or
the
full
language
of
her
eye
;
That
silent
pathos
who
can
bear
,
Or
speak
the
thoughts
that
tremble
there
!
'Twas
then
Illusion's
ready
hand
Now
glaz'd
the
waters
,
deck'd
the
land
;
Around
the
scene
enchantment
threw
,
And
turn'd
to
pearl
the
simple
dew
;
Touch'd
every
flower
with
magic
charm
,
And
kept
the
bosom
sweetly
warm
.
The
eye
o'er
all
Elysium
roll'd
—
'Twas
streams
of
silver
,
rocks
of
gold
—
And
walks
of
happiness
were
seen
'Mong
vocal
bowers
,
and
valleys
green
.
But
,
sweet
deceiver
!
now
'tis
o'er
,
I
look
through
thy
soft
eye
no
more
;
No
more
,
since
sure
thy
pains
were
given
To
draw
us
from
a
fancied
heaven
,
To
tell
us
that
all
bliss
below
Is
ting'd
with
many
a
shade
of
woe
.
And
who
can
say
,
enchanting
power
!
How
long
shall
last
his
brightest
hour
?
Thy
coldness
,
like
a
vapour
,
streams
,
And
damps
our
joy's
enlivening
beams
,
When
once
we
give
the
generous
heart
,
Fore-doom'd
to
feel
,
to
bear
,
and
smart
,
Yet
find
thy
lovely
form
decay
,
Thy
best
of
features
wear
away
,
Thy
fondness
drop
by
slow
degrees
,
Thy
very
life-blood
coldly
freeze
,
Thy
sweet
attentions
,
one
by
one
—
We
know
not
why
—
yet
see
withdrawn
;
The
heart
retires
within
her
cave
,
And
,
bleeding
,
asks
an
early
grave
!
Then
go
,
Affection
!
I
have
found
Thou
both
canst
give
and
heal
the
wound
;
But
waste
not
one
more
shaft
on
me
,
Maybe
I've
no
more
charms
for
thee
;
Round
this
bent
form
no
graces
twine
Their
cheerful
wreath
for
hearts
like
thine
,
Restore
mine
once
again
to
me
,
And
I
am
quit
,
and
thou
art
free
!