On Leaving A Village In Scotland

Clysdale! as thy romantic vales I leave,
  And bid farewell to each retiring hill,
  Where musing memory seems to linger still,
  Tracing the broad bright landscape; much I grieve
  That, mingled with the toiling crowd, no more
  I may return your varied views to mark,
  Of rocks amid the sunshine towering dark,
  Of rivers winding wild, or mountains hoar,
  Or castle gleaming on the distant steep!--
  Yet many a look back on thy hills I cast,
  And many a softened image of the past
  Sadly combine, and bid remembrance keep,
  To soothe me with fair scenes, and fancies rude,
  When I pursue my path in solitude.