Written On Cramond Beach.

Farewell, old playmate! on thy sandy shore     My lingering feet will leave their print no more;     To thy loved side I never may return.     I pray thee, old companion, make due mourn     For the wild spirit who so oft has stood     Gazing in love and wonder on thy flood.     The form is now departing far away,     That half in anger oft, and half in play,     Thou hast pursued with thy white showers of foam.     Thy waters daily will besiege the home     I loved among the rocks; but there will be     No laughing cry, to hail thy victory,     Such as was wont to greet thee, when I fled,     With hurried footsteps, and averted head,     Like fallen monarch, from my venturous stand,     Chased by thy billows far along the sand.     And when at eventide thy warm waves drink     The amber clouds that in their bosom sink;     When sober twilight over thee has spread     Her purple pall, when the glad day is dead     My voice no more will mingle with the dirge     That rose in mighty moaning from thy surge,     Filling with awful harmony the air,     When thy vast soul and mine were joined in prayer.