Early Adieux

Adieu to kindred hearts and home,     To pleasure, joy, and mirth,     A fitter foot than mine to roam     Could scarcely tread the earth;     For they are now so few indeed     (Not more than three in all),     Who eer will think of me or heed     What fate may me befall.     For I through pleasures paths have run     My headlong goal to win,     Nor pleasures snares have cared to shun     When pleasure sweetened sin.     Let those who will their failings mask,     To mine I frankly own;     But for them pardon will I ask     Of none, save Heaven alone.     From carping friends I turn aside;     At foes defiance frown;     Yet time may tame my stubborn pride,     And break my spirit down.     Still, if to error I incline,     Truth whispers comfort strong,     That never reckless act of mine     Eer worked a comrade wrong.     My mother is a stately dame,     Who oft would chide with me;     She saith my riot bringeth shame,     And stains my pedigree.     Id reck not what my friends might know,     Or what the world might say,     Did I but think some tears would flow     When I am far away.     Perchance my mother will recall     My memry with a sigh;     My gentle sisters tears may fall,     And dim her laughing eye;     Perhaps a loving thought may gleam,     And fringe its saddened ray,     When, like a nightmares troubled dream,     I, outcast, pass away.     Then once again farewell to those     Whoeer for me have sighed;     For pleasures melt away like snows,     And hopes like shadows glide.     Adieu, my mother! if no more     Thy sons face thou mayst see,     At least those many cares are oer     So ofttimes caused by me.     My lot is fixed! The die is cast!     For me home hath no joy!     Oh, pardon then all follies past,     And bless your wayward boy!     And thou, from whom for aye to part     Grieves more than tongue can tell,     May Heaven preserve thy guileless heart,     Sweet sister, fare thee well!     Thou, too, whose loving-kindness makes     My resolution less,     While from the bitter past it takes     One half its bitterness,     If eer you held my memry dear,     Grant this request, I pray,     Give to that memry one bright tear,     And let it pass away.