The Bard's Lamentation

Ah , Mannin! dear Mannin! how can I neglect thee?
My unroaming heart closely clings to thy shore,
And while it yet throbs I shall never forget thee,
Tho' I should behold thee, my Mannin, no more.

As clings the young infant, with fondling caresses,
Unto the glad mother to gaze on her smile—
So does my fond heart, 'midst the world's sad distresses,
Cling close to the rocks of my dear native Isle.

As pines the wild hart, on Syria's parch'd mountains,
The murmuring streamlet's clear waters to see—
Or the green myrtle groves that shade the cool fountains—
So pine I in absence, my Mannin, for thee!
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