The Exile's Farewell (1846)
Now, fare thee well, my own Green Isle !
And fare ye well, my kind friends all !
Your scenes, my Land--my friends, your smile--
Shall Memory oft recall.
An exile--o'er the Stranger's strand
For weary, weary years I strayed ;
Retutrned--a strainger--to the land
Where childhood played.
Again I saw the scenes whence first
Good Nature's worship deep I drew -
Where Fancy's early dreams were nurst
When Life was ever new.
The scenes I viewed, to boyhood dear,
And still they bloomed--yet unto me
A gloom lay o'er them, dark and drear,
Of Memory !
For 'neath that rich and vetdant sod
A father's sacred relics, were,
And yet another slept with God,
Young, fond, and fair.
And I, as I have said, alone
And lonely trod my native earth,
And thought of happy days long flown--
Of love and mirth !
Ah, me ! 'tis grievous thus to roam--
No sorrow can with his compare
Who on his own soil finds nor home
Nor welcome there !
But not in Erin of the streams--
Oh, not in my own genial isle,
Could stranger ever lack the beams
Of welcome's smile !
Oh, no ! and brightly fell on me
The kindly glance of friends, l heard
Again the grateful melody
Of welcome's word.
And bright and gentle eyes did shine
With such a sweetly tender light--
Oh ! they have left this heart of mine
In piteous plight !
And ah ! but I was loathe to leave
Bright scenes--true friends--I cherished so ;
And still remembrance bids me grieve
And hug my woe.
Farewell, farewell, my own Green Isle !
And fare ye well my kind friends all !
Your scenes, my Land--my friends, your smile--
Shall Memory oft recall.
M. MacD.
Notes
From the NSW Newspaper the Sydney Chronicle Saturday 26 December 1846 p. 4.