| |
| FROM thy waves, stormy Llannon, I fly; | |
| From thy rocks, that are lashed by their tide; | |
| From the maid whose cold bosom, relentless as they, | |
| Has wrecked my warm hopes by her pride! | |
| Yet lonely and rude as the scene, | 5 |
| Her smile to that scene could impart | |
| A charm that might rival the bloom of the vale,— | |
| But away, thou fond dream of my heart! | |
| From thy rocks, stormy Llannon, I fly. | |
| |
| Now the blasts of the winter come on, | 10 |
| And the waters grow dark as they rise! | |
| But ’t is well!—they resemble the sullen disdain | |
| That has lowered in those insolent eyes. | |
| Sincere were the sighs they represt, | |
| But they rose in the days that are flown! | 15 |
| Ah, nymph! unrelenting and cold as thou art, | |
| My spirit is proud as thine own! | |
| From thy rocks, stormy Llannon, I fly. | |
| |
| Lo! the wings of the sea-fowl are spread | |
| To escape the loud storm by their flight; | 20 |
| And these caves will afford them a gloomy retreat | |
| From the winds and the billows of night; | |
| Like them, to the home of my youth, | |
| Like them, to its shades I retire; | |
| Receive me, and shield my vexed spirit, ye groves, | 25 |
| From the pangs of insulted desire! | |
| To thy rocks, stormy Llannon, adieu! | |
| |
