'TWAS WHEN THE SUN SLID DOWN YON HILL. Susanna Blamire Alexander Huber Editor Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford
Broad Street Oxford OX1 3BG UK
Eighteenth-Century Poetry Archive
Taylor Institution Library St Giles' Oxford OX1 3NA UK info@eighteenthcenturypoetry.org https://www.eighteenthcenturypoetry.org/
Oxford This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 Unported License. Blamire, Susanna, 1747-1794. The Poetical Works of Miss Susanna Blamire “The muse of Cumberland.” Now for the first time collected by Henry Lonsdale, M.D. with a preface, memoir, and notes by Patrick Maxwell, ... Edinburgh John Menzies, 61 Princes Street; R. Tyas, London; D. Robertson, Glasgow; and C. Thurnam, Carlisle. MDCCCXLII. 1842 pp. 226-228.

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'TWAS WHEN THE SUN SLID DOWN YON HILL . Air — Ettrick Banks . 'TWAS when the sun slid down yon hill , And Evening wander'd through the dale , When busy life was growing still , And homeward swam the milking pail ; 'Twas then I sought the murmuring stream , That seem'd like me to talk of woes , And lengthen out life's weary dream , Which on like its dull current flows . Why dwells the soul on pleasures past ? Why think I Marion once was true ? Those fleeting joys that fled so fast , Why should fond fancy still renew ? When fortune drove me far away , My heart , dear Marion , dwelt with thee ; E'en now methinks I hear thee say , — Wilt thou , dear youth , remember me ? O yes ! I cried ; no change of place , Nor favouring fortune's better day , Can e'er erase thy lovely face , Or wear thy heart-stamp'd form away . Though mountains rise , and oceans roar , They'll prove but feeble bars to me ; In soul I'll seek my native shore , And wander every-where with thee . And still , dull absence to deceive , My thoughts fled to each former scene ; And fancy fondly made believe I was again where once I'd been ! I tended Marion's evening walk ; We sat beneath the trysting tree ; I saw her smile , and heard her talk , And vow to love and live for me ! But time and absence both conspir'd , And Marion's truth forgot its vow ; And Fashion many a wish acquir'd , That turns to wants — we knew not how . O Marion ! could I e'er have thought That Splendour would have rivall'd me , This foolish heart I ne'er had taught To think , as it still thinks , on thee ! Still through my heart thy image strays ; Thy breath is in each breeze that blows ; Thy smile , thy song , in by-past days In Memory's page more vivid glows ! So long my thoughts with thee have dwelt , They're far the dearest part of me ; For , O ! this heart too long has felt It loves and only lives for thee !