YE nymphs and swains, so innocently gay,
Who dwell where Thames rolls on his silver way;
Where'er in Cookham's lov'd retreats you stray,
To you a wand'rer gives his parting lay;
Nor will he e'er forget those blissful days,
Where on your banks he tun'd his artless lays;
To you his Muse this parting tribute pays,
And sings, but sings unbrib'd, your modest praise.
But now a long farewell, ye nymphs, ye swains;
With you no more I tread the verdant plains,
No more with you I share my joys, my pains,
Nor shall you hear again my plaintive strains:
But ere, lov'd Thames, thy flow'ry banks I leave,
Where oft I've hail'd th' approach of sober eve,
Do thou, whilst Fate permits a short reprieve,
Do thou, dear Thames, this parting wish receive;
"O! ever gently flow, thou hallow'd stream!
O! may thy waves be still the Muse's theme!
When on thy banks pale Cynthia sheds her beam,
" O! there may Fancy gild the Poet's dream!