IV. To the River Wenbeck

 AS slowly wanders thy forsaken stream, 
Wenbeck! the mossy-scatter'd rocks among, 
In fancy's ear still making plaintive song 
To the dark woods above: ah! sure I seem 
To meet some friendly Genius in the gloom, 
And in each breeze a pitying voice I hear 
Like sorrow's sighs upon misfortune's tomb.
 
Ah! soothing are your quiet scenes -- the tear 
Of him who passes weary on his way 
Shall thank you, as he turns to bid adieu: 
Onward a cheerless pilgrim he may stray, 
Yet oft as musing memory shall review 
The scenes that cheer'd his path with fairer ray, 
Delightful haunts, he will remember you.

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