Lanark Mills.
[Lewis.—Air, "Miss Forbes' Farewell to Banff."]
Adieu! romantic banks of Clyde,
Where oft I've spent the joyful day,
Now, weary wand'ring on thy side,
I pour the plaintive, joyless lay.
To other lands I'm doom'd to rove,
The thought with grief my bosom fills,
Why am I forced to leave my love,
And wander far from Lanark Mills?
Can I forget th' extatic hours,
When ('scaped the village evening din)
I met my lass 'midst Braxfield bowers,
Or near the falls of Corhouse Linn?
While close I clasp'd her to my breast,
(Th' idea still with rapture thrills!)
I thought myself completely blest,
By all the lads of Lanark Mills.
Deceitful, dear, delusive dream,
Thou'rt fled—alas! I know not where,
Evanish'd is each blissful gleam,
And left behind a load of care.
Adieu! dear winding banks of Clyde,
A long farewell, ye rising hills;
No more I'll wander on your side,
Though still my heart's at Lanark Mills.
While Tintock stands the pride of hills,
While Clyde's dark stream rolls to the sea,
So long, my dear-loved Lanark Mills,
May heaven's best blessings smile on thee.
A last adieu! My Mary dear,
The briny tear my eye distills;
While reason's powers continue clear,
I'll think of thee, and Lanark Mills.