Enchantress, farewell, who so oft hast deceived me
At the close of the evening through woodlands to roam
Where the forester, 'lated, with wonder espied me
Explore the wild scenes he was quitting for home
Farewell and take with thee thy numbers wild speaking
The language alternate of rapture and woe:
Oh! none but some lover, whose heartstrings are breaking
The pang that I feel at our parting can know

Each joy thou couldst double, and when there came sorrow
Or pale disappointment to darken my way
What voice was like thine, that could sing of tomorrow
Till forgot in the strain was the grief of today!
But when friends drop around us in life's weary waning
The grief, Queen of Numbers, thou canst not assuage;
Nor the gradual estrangement of those yet remaining
The languor of pain, and the chillness of age

'Twas thou that once taught me, accents bewailing
To sing how a warrior I lay stretch'd on the plain
And a maiden hung o'er him with aid unavailing
And held to his lips the cold goblet in vain ;
As vain thy enchantments, O Queen of wild Numbers
To a bard when the reign of his fancy is o'er
And the quick pulse of feeling in apathy slumbers --
Farewell, then, Enchantress I'll meet thee no more!