Clysdale! As Thy Romantic Vales I Leave, And Bid Farewell To Each Retiring Hill, Where Musing Memory Seems To Linger Still, Tracing The Broad Bright Landscape; Much I Grieve That, Mingled With The Toiling Crowd, No More I May Return Your Varied Views To Mark, Of Rocks Amid The Sunshine Towering Dark, Of Rivers Winding Wild, Or Mountains Hoar, Or Castle Gleaming On The Distant Steep! Yet Many A Look Back On Thy Hills I Cast, And Many A Softened Image Of The Past Sadly Combine, And Bid Remembrance Keep, To Soothe Me With Fair Scenes, And Fancies Rude, When I Pursue My Path In Solitude.