A Last Farewell

Farewell to Northmaven,
Grey Hillswicke, farewell !
To the calms of thy haven,
The storms on thy fell,
To each breeze that can vary
The mood of thy main,
And to thee, bonny Mary !
We meet not again !

Farewell the wild ferry,
Which Hacon could brave,
When the peaks of the Skerry
Were white in the wave.
There 's a maid may look over
These wild waves in vain,--
For the skiff of her lover--
He comes not again !

The vows thou hast broke,
On the wild currents fling them ;
On the quicksand and rock
Let the mermaidens sing them ;
New sweetness they 'll give her
Bewildering strain ;
But there 's one who will never
Believe them again.

O were there an island,
Though ever so wild,
Where woman could smile, and
No man be beguiled--
Too tempting a snare
To poor mortals were given ;
And the hope would fix there,
That should anchor in heaven.